Claire? Why was she home so early today? And more importantly, what should he do now?

  There was a real chance she had come to check his room earlier and found it empty, so if he just casually went downstairs now, he was going to have a hard time explaining himself. No, it would be better to leave the house, then come back through the front door, acting as if he had never been home to begin with, which was technically the truth anyway.

  How, though?

  Well... looked like the window was the only viable option.

  It was time to put his Thaumaturgy to work. What else was it for, if not moments like this?

  Viktor walked to the only window in the room, leaning out. The ground sat a long way down below, making it abundantly clear that a careless jump would end things in a very final, disastrous fashion. He needed to craft a Thauma capable of delivering him safely to the earth without any mishap.

  The simplest solution would be to conjure a gust of wind blowing upward to slow down his descent. But he was in the mood for something a little more inventive. A ladder, perhaps. Or even a staircase. He could raise the earth itself, sculpting a neat path for him to go down. Though, of course, that would leave a conspicuous mound of displaced ground behind, and that was a mess he didn’t want to clean up. Better to create something that would disappear on its own after being used.

  A ladder made of water, then.

  He closed his eyes and began to assemble the Thauma piece by piece within his mind. He was going to call it “Create Water Object.” Yes, naming things made them easier to keep track of.

  First, he needed to conjure a sufficient quantity of water for the object he had in mind. He would shape it as he imagined, then reinforce the structure to hold against external forces. Yes, it should be able to support the weight of one person without collapsing. It should also last for at least several minutes. And he should be able to dissolve it back into a pool of water whenever he wanted.

  After the Thauma had been fully defined, a transparent screen materialized into existence before his eyes.

  Well, yes, duration was not something he could exactly decide in advance. After all, it depended on the complexity of the Thauma itself. So he only got the actual numbers once the feedback came in, and then he could make adjustments if needed. Ten minutes was more than enough for his needs, so there was no reason to fiddle with it any further. Thus, he just nodded along, agreeing with what he was offered.

  Light flared for a heartbeat before condensing into a card that hovered in the air, the embodiment of his freshly crafted Thauma. He had given it a design that reflected its intended purpose: a white background framed by a deep blue border, with an image of a ladder on its surface, referring to the very first object he planned to create with it.

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  Of course, this card existed only inside his head. No one else could see it. Every time he needed to use the Thauma, he would simply “play” the card, instead of assembling the whole thing from scratch all over again. Also, it helped him stay organized, which was especially important when he got a lot of these things in the future. It was a trick his old master had taught him. A little mental shortcut, similar to how the mages used incantations and gestures to trigger their spells.

  Viktor opened the window, and the moment he did, the cold breeze of winter rushed in to assault his face. Ignoring it, he reached his hand past the frame, activating the Thauma. In an instant, water sprang into existence, swirling and solidifying into the shape he had imagined: a ladder sturdy enough to bear him, each rung perfectly formed.

  He wrapped his fingers around the first rung. There was a strange feeling, as if the water were insisting it was still water, all the while magically stiff enough to resist his grip. It was alive and fluid, yet also cohesive and rigid.

  He swung his legs over the edge and planted a foot on the first rung. It held. He tested another step. It didn’t budge. So he began to descend. Each footfall carried a tingling sensation, a faint vibration running up through his calves, a reminder that the ladder was made of water, yet reinforced with magic strong enough to hold his weight.

  Step by step, he lowered himself toward the ground, paying no heed to the chill air that nipped at his skin. When his boots finally met the earth, he casually waved a hand. The ladder shimmered, then collapsed into a harmless-looking puddle, leaving no trace of its brief existence.

  He walked away from the house. He jogged back and forth along the quiet street for ten minutes. Then, he came back.

  When he opened the door, he found exactly what he had expected. Claire was there, standing behind the stove.

  She glanced at him. “Where were you?”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Just a bit of running.”

  “In this weather? In that getup?”

  “I’m fine,” Viktor replied. He needed to change the subject. Fast. Before it spiraled into something awkward. “Why are you home so early today?”

  “Well... not just today. For the next few weeks, I won’t need to go to the Guild at all.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been fired,” Viktor said with a chuckle. He moved toward the table, pulled out a chair, and dropped into it.

  “Of course not. The Guildmaster has given me a... well, a special mission. She told me that I only needed to focus on it for the time being. And she’s relieved me of all other duties.”

  “A special mission?” Viktor arched an eyebrow. “What kind of mission?”

  “She... she wants to invite Overseer Rennald to the Guild to discuss the town’s future. But, you know, he’s been avoiding the public eye for quite a while. No one could reach him. Apparently, the Guildmaster has already tried to invite him herself several times, with no success. Now she wants me to handle it.”

  “And what made her think you would succeed where she failed?”

  “You tell me,” Claire said. “I’ve asked her, ‘Why me?’ But she didn’t give an answer. She just said I had to do it.”

  “So, she wants you to drag Rennald to the Guild somehow?”

  “Not quite.” Claire shook her head. “She just wants me to go see him face-to-face and deliver the invitation. What he decides afterward is not my concern. The mission still counts as a success either way.”

  Viktor frowned. “That’s a very strange order.”

  “I know,” Claire admitted with a sigh. “I was confused the whole time. But she insisted, and you know her, she doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. So, really, I have no choice but to go along with it.”

  The whole situation felt absurd. What exactly did Isadora think she could accomplish by sending Claire on a fool’s errand like this? And, setting that aside, why Rennald? What was so important that she suddenly wanted an audience with him?

  “Did she tell you what she wanted to discuss with the Overseer?”

  “She didn’t plan to, at first. But then Noi’ri said something to her. After that, she reluctantly gave me the explanation.”

  “Noi’ri was there as well?”

  “Yes.”

  Viktor furrowed his brow. That was odd. But it was best not to chase every strange thread at the same time. “Go on,” he said.

  Claire hesitated. “Before I continue, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Viktor said. After all, he was not Alycia. “No one in town will hear a word.” Which, of course, conveniently left out those who lived in the dungeon. And, to be honest, Celeste was probably already listening anyway.

  “Alright.” Claire nodded. “You remember the Guildmaster of Iskora, don’t you?”

  “Clovis?” Viktor blurted. Why in the hell is that name coming up now?

  “Yes. Him. You may find this hard to believe, but Guildmaster Isadora told me that he was planning to rebuild the ruined city of Voskryn.”

  What?

  So that was his next move, huh? After failing to buy the dungeon, then failing to steal it, he now attempted to pop up an entirely new settlement right next door.

  “Of course, he’s not rebuilding the whole city,” Claire continued. “Guildmaster Isadora believes he’ll only—”

  “Build the southern part,” Viktor said. “And then build a bridge to connect his shiny new town straight to the dungeon.”

  Claire blinked, then stared at him. “Wow, you got it quick.”

  It was obvious, really. That was exactly what he was going to do if he were in Clovis’s shoes.

  But now came the real question: what could he do about it?

  He had long known that Daelin would eventually face fierce competition in this dungeon business. Normally, he wouldn’t care less. As long as the dungeon got food, where it came from was irrelevant. But this was Clovis, a man who had a strange obsession with his dungeon. And then there was the mysterious woman with skin of bronze—Nephra.

  What if... this was also part of the Mastermind’s plan?

  “So,” Viktor said, leaning back, fingers drumming on the table, “Isadora wants to invite Rennald because she’s hoping to team up with him to counter Clovis?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do, then? How exactly are you planning to meet the Overseer?”

  “I... don’t know. I guess I’ll visit the caravan station tomorrow. See what I can do.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Viktor said.

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Why not? Maybe there’s something I can help with.”

  “I don’t think there’s any...” Claire paused. Then, she smiled. “Well, why not, indeed? It’s been a long time since we last did something together.”

  Viktor nodded. “It’s settled, then.”