Night had fallen in Lakeheart Town.
At dinner time, candlelight burned quietly in Lords Manor's restaurant, illuminating the figures of five women.
By candlelight, Paul entered with a woman.
La Di immediately stood up upon seeing the figure.
Paul introduced her to the crowd: "This is my mother, Mariana."
Apart from La Di, everyone else present was stunned.
Frostine froze in her seat, her eyes wide open, as if struck by lightning.
As a member of the Arcane Society, she recognized the face.
After a brief silence, Catherine spoke first: "But I heard that you... I'm sorry, I heard that you passed away from illness at a young age..."
The others also looked puzzled; they had never heard Paul mention that his mother was still alive.
Mariana stood straight, her voice calm: "I did not die. Back then, because of the church's pursuit, I had to leave Alda to avoid implicating my family. The official story was that I died of illness, which was to protect the Glyman Family."
The church's pursuit? Catherine, Eileen, and Olfina immediately understood.
Mariana paused, looking at the women in front of her: "Yes, my true identity is a witch, and a member of the Arcane Society, just like Coleridge... Frostine."
This sentence caused the air to freeze instantly. Witches are hunted in most places—at least that was the case in the past—and the Arcane Society is an even more mysterious and dangerous organization.
Only La Di was not surprised. She nodded slightly to Mariana, Mariana's student, whom she had met when Mariana last returned.
Paul continued, "You are my wives, the most important people in this family. I should have told you this sooner, but now that I'm telling you, I hope you can keep it a secret. Apart from you and your father's old associates, your mother's identity cannot be known to the outside world for the time being."
The candlelight shone on Frostine's silvery hair as she lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the fabric of her sleeve.
She recognized Mariana; she had seen her several times from afar at high-level meetings of the Arcane Society —that silent yet intimidating witch, one of the Council of Ten, whom even Emperor Antonio treated with deference.
She never imagined that one day she would face her former superior as the wife of Mariana's son.
When Mariana's gaze fell upon her, Frostine felt as if ice water had been poured over her head.
"I'd like to talk to you alone after dinner," Mariana said, her voice low but quiet enough to silence the entire room.
Frostine looked up and met those deep eyes.
Her throat tightened, and she nodded slightly: "...Yes, Madam."
Everyone sensed the undercurrent beneath this brief conversation—two witches from the Arcane Society, now standing under the same roof because of a man, had reunited in a bizarre way.
After dinner began, Catherine and the others chatted with Mariana about her experiences abroad over the years, and also talked about Paul's brother Nathan, gradually becoming acquainted with each other.
Only Frostine sat there, like a statue about to be judged.
She didn't know what kind of conversation awaited her, but it would likely be more difficult than any previous mission.
Paul sensed the heavy atmosphere, especially Frostine's lowered gaze and slightly pale fingertips.
He smiled and broke the silence with a relaxed tone.
"Mother, please don't be harsh on Frostine. She's an 'inmate' now. Lords Manor is her prison—three years and four months, and she can't step out. That's written in the sentence."
Mariana turned to her son, her tone filled with confusion: "Serving a sentence? You...judged her?"
"Of course," Paul said with a smile, as if he were talking about something trivial, "It's a fact that she failed to assassinate Alvis. Although it happened before the Soul Realm, there has to be an explanation now that we're back in reality."
He paused, his tone turning serious: "I personally presided over the trial. Fortunately, Alvis provided a letter of understanding, and he understood that she was acting under orders. Therefore, I was able to give her a lighter sentence, changing it to imprisonment in Lords Manor to cooperate with the Political Affairs Council, which is considered a suspended sentence."
Mariana looked at him, her eyes filled with astonishment, followed by a sense of unbelievable absurdity.
"Absurd! You are the lord of Alda," she said, her voice low but clearly reproachful. "In this land, your word is law. Alvis is merely a fugitive; your taking him in is already a great favor. Yet you try your own wife for his sake? And even set a sentence for him, writing it into the law?"
Paul looked at his mother and said calmly, "I know you think I'm stupid. But the law can't just be something to restrain people."
The candlelight shone on his face: "I have made laws that prohibit anyone from assassinating, injuring, or seizing property. If I were to pardon someone in my own household with a single word, what use would these laws be? What would the people think? They would say that the lord's laws only apply to the people, not to the powerful and wealthy."
"So even if it's just for show," he continued, "I still have to go through the trial process, set a sentence, and make it public. This isn't to punish her, but to tell everyone—in this land, the law applies to everyone, including the people around me."
Mariana listened, her brows furrowing deeper and deeper. After a moment of silence, she slowly spoke again: "You became a lord through strength, wisdom, and the hearts of the people. But you've forgotten that this world has never been one of equality for all. Nobles and commoners, witches and mortals, the strong and the weak are inherently different. When your father ruled Alda, who dared to question whether his judgments were 'fair'? He made decisions because he was the lord, and that's enough."
She looked at her son, her eyes filled with incomprehension and a hint of pity: "Do you think a three-year prison sentence will convince people? But in this land, what truly commands respect is power itself. The more you talk about these rules, the more people will think you're weak, that you can't even take care of your own family."
Paul did not respond immediately. He knew that unlike himself, whose soul came from Earth, his mother had grown up in the old era, a time when the strong were respected and classes were clearly defined.
His tone turned serious: "Mother, do you think I'm naive? Do you think I really believe that a law can bind everyone?"
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at Lakeheart Town in the night: "I know very well—order, in the final analysis, is built on strength. Without an army, without Cannon, without the support of factories, no amount of laws are anything but waste paper. The Northwest was able to implement new policies not because its people liked to listen to reason, but because the Alda Legion could win wars, and because our firearms could pierce the armor of the old era."