Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Both women approached Jaegar with the careful grace of experienced courtiers approaching a dangerous beast.

"Nephew," Genevieve began, her tone carrying both warmth and warning, "the thing you did now may come across as treason, but Vlaran is taking care of this issue, so we will let it slide."

The subtext was clear to everyone present.

This was both a warning and an offer - a chance for Jaegar to back down without losing face, while also serving as a reminder of the precarious position he had placed himself in.

Genevieve knew what happened here, and she didn't want to involve herself in the matters of the young men. She assessed Jaegar and his powerful demeanour while talking with Vlaran; she could vaguely guess the conversation between them.

Jaegar's jaw clenched briefly, the only outward sign of his internal struggle. He had returned to the palace with purpose, driven by a need to confront Lorcan about actions that the rest of the imperial family seemed either ignorant of or wilfully blind to.

But now, faced with the complex web of palace politics and the very real threat of imprisonment, he found himself forced to recalculate.

Castor, having finally regained his feet with the help of two guards, watched the exchange with barely concealed hatred, his hand pressed against his bruised ribs.

He inclined his head slightly - not quite a bow, but an acknowledgement of the political reality he found himself in. "Of course, Aunt Genevieve," he said, his voice carefully modulated. "I apologize for any... disruption I may have caused."

For the time being, he just needed to back down and find more about his enemies. There were a lot of things he needed to deal with.

Charlytha's lips curled in a slight smile, recognizing the careful dance of words and power playing out before her.

As the head of the Blossom House, she was well versed in the art of saving face while surrendering ground. "Perhaps," she suggested smoothly, "Prince Jaegar would benefit from some rest after his travels. The hour grows late, and I'm sure tomorrow will bring clearer heads and calmer discussions."

She invited him to the Blossom house, but Jaegar declined and just walked out of the palace. He thought, staying in the palace would only make his anger grow bounds. He had to find a way to deal with Vlaran and soon find Lorcan.

For now, he needed to back down. These people of the imperial palace would do anything to gain the upper hand; Jaegar understood that fact.

Heaving a deep sigh, he just walked out of the palace, thinking deeply.

'Lorcan, I will find you soon,' Jaegar thought to himself. Even though he didn't like to back down, he thought it was best to leave for now. From what he had seen, Vlaran seemed to know about Jaegar very much, while Jaegar had only limited knowledge about him.

***

Scroartint was a city of contrasts—where the rich lived in grand townhouses adorned with brass and wrought iron, while the poor eked out their existence in narrow alleys, in the shadows of towering buildings.

Upon reaching the city gates, Jaegar found himself enveloped in the sounds and scents of the marketplace—vendors hawking their wares, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the less pleasant stench of the nearby stables, and the clamour of horses' hooves against cobblestone streets.

He made his way through the crowded streets with practiced ease, weaving between peddlers and citizens with the grace of one well-acquainted with the city's labyrinthine layout.

After a short walk, Jaegar arrived at a grand building on a quieter street—an imposing structure with an intricately carved sign that read: "Buertan & Sons Mercantile Exchange." This was the business headquarters of Pierre. The mercantile office was well-known throughout the city as a place where fortunes were made, deals were brokered, and alliances formed.

Jaegar stepped inside, immediately met by the warmth of the interior, a stark contrast to the chilly air outside.

The reception area was finely appointed, with dark wood panelling and brass accents that spoke to the wealth and success of the Seifridges family. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the polished mahogany desk where a young woman sat, busy with a stack of papers. She looked up as Jaegar entered, her expression professional but kind.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted, offering a polite smile. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Seifridges?"

Jaegar nodded, smoothing back a stray lock of his dark hair. "I believe he's expecting me," he replied, his tone calm and courteous. Read exclusive adventures at empire

The receptionist glanced at a ledger on her desk before nodding. "Yes, Mr. Ambrose, Mr. Seifridges is currently in a meeting, but he should be finished shortly. Would you like to wait here in the reception area?"

"That would be fine, thank you," Jaegar replied, taking a seat in one of the comfortable leather armchairs that lined the wall. He allowed himself a moment to relax, observing the room with mild curiosity. The reception area was quiet, the muffled sounds of conversation drifting in from the adjoining offices.

It was his first time in the office of Pierre; his friend had really set himself in the world of business.

The receptionist offered him a cup of tea, which he accepted with a nod of gratitude. He took a sip, savouring the warmth, letting his mind wander over the events of the day.

He thought of Vlaran and others and of the looks they had given him as he left the palace. He knew they doubted him, but it didn't matter. Their underestimation was a weapon he could use.

After a few minutes, the door to Pierre's office opened, and a middleaged man with a shrewd expression stepped out.

The receptionist motioned to Jaegar, inviting him to enter.

Jaegar stood, straightened his cloak, and walked into the office, where Pierre awaited him. Pierre rose from behind his desk, his face breaking into a wide smile as he approached Jaegar with open arms.