Kael sat alone at a corner table in a quiet, mid-range inn—the kind frequented by modest nobles, rising merchants, and the occasional wealthy commoner who valued discretion over extravagance.
It wasn't lavish, but the food was good, the wine better, and more importantly, the setting private enough for the meeting he had arranged.
This was the address he'd sent to Duchess Selvaris—for her daughter.
He wore a simple black noble's mask.
Nothing ornate, but elegant enough to pass without suspicion.
In a place like this, anonymity was currency.
And for Kael, who now bore a title too loud for peace, it was a necessity.
The mask did its job.
No one recognized him.
To the others in the room, he was just another bored noble passing time with a menu and fine posture.
But the whispers still floated.
"Did you hear about the duel with the Crown Prince?"
"They say the new Duke crushed him with a spell no one had ever seen."
