Pell woke up first. The early morning light filtered through the shutters, faint and pale—it was only around 7 a.m. Enya was still sprawled on the bed, her sleep posture as disastrous as ever. By the door, the three skeletons she’d summoned at some point stood silent and still, like lifeless dolls. Pell didn’t spare them a glance.

  Clad in his black cloak, he slipped out of their room. Descending the stairs from the second floor, he passed Sheryl, the innkeeper, who was already busy behind the counter. A couple of patrons sat at nearby tables, quietly enjoying their freshly prepared breakfasts, bacon, eggs, bread, and hash browns.

  Oh, how I wish I could still eat, Pell thought.

  “You don’t eat, do you?” Sheryl asked as Pell reached the ground floor, her sharp eyes glancing at him.

  “No, I’m fine,” Pell replied, slightly disheartened. “If the kid wakes up and asks where I’ve gone, tell her I’m out on business. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

  “Got it,” she said, wiping down a glass with practiced ease.

  With a small nod, Pell left the inn and stepped onto the street. He made his way toward the city’s center.

  Though it was still early, the city was already stirring. Streets bustled with workers heading to their shifts, carts traveling past, and merchants setting up their stalls. Pell couldn’t help but notice the way people’s gazes followed him. Some were simply curious, their eyes lingering on his skeletal figure cloaked in black. Others, however, were less… benign—sharp glances that hinted at distrust and even disdain.

  Not that it mattered. Being ambushed or attacked in broad daylight wasn’t something Pell worried about anymore. Thanks to Lorrin and the city lord, his connection to Enya’s noble status made him practically untouchable. As long as no one outright killed him in the streets, he was immune to most trouble—a perk he was happy to exploit.

  This morning’s business was part of that. According to Lorrin, Lord Clament could be found at the main city hall. Pell had decided it was time to meet the man.

  The city hall loomed ahead, an imposing structure rivaled only by the grandeur of the magic association’s headquarters. Though, to be fair, the association had the advantage of being a sprawling multi-layered organization with probably ties to the enchanted realm.

  Pell strode toward the hall’s front entrance, his gaze landing on the intricately carved lions adorning the massive double doors. He grabbed a rounded wooden latch, pulled it open, and stepped inside.

  The lobby looked warm and inviting, lit by a chandelier glowing with spell circuits. A richly patterned rug stretched across the floor, its colors cascading in elegant swirls. Off to the side was a polished counter manned by a single clerk. The elf, his flawless skin and pointed ears unmistakable to the common eye, noticed Pell’s arrival. Beside him, the lobby was otherwise empty.

  Pell approached the counter, and the clerk’s eyes flicked to the lock coiled around Pell’s arm before returning to meet his gaze.

  “What may I do for you today?” the man asked, his voice smooth and professional.

  “I’m here to see Lord Clament,” Pell said, his tone calm but firm. “I was involved in an incident at the city prison—something with a draconid named Nakrin. Lord Clament sent Sir Lorrin to resolve it. I was told I could meet with him here if I needed to discuss anything important.”

  “A recommendation from Lorrin?” the clerk asked, his brow lifting in mild surprise. “One moment.” He raised his bracer, its embedded crystal shimmering faintly—the same type of device used by all city officials. His gaze scanned the glowing interface, his expression shifting as he navigated the system. “Ah, yes. I see. There’s a specific mention for you.”

  He continued sifting through what must have been a dozen screens before finally nodding in conclusion. “Lord Clament is available at the moment. Would you like to meet with him now, or schedule an appointment for later?”

  “Now, please.” Pell’s response was quick. Normally, he might have opted for a later time, but his current guise as a mere merchant—albeit one tied to a high noble from the enchanted layers—required immediate action. More importantly, he didn’t want Enya catching wind of this meeting, which was why he’d left so early.

  “Very well.” The clerk reached beneath the counter and placed a folded sign reading ‘Be back soon’ in clear, precise script. Exiting from behind the counter, he gestured for Pell to follow. “This way.”

  Pell walked behind him as the elf led him up a broad staircase and through a series of ornate hallways. The building’s interior radiated wealth and authority, each turn revealing intricate moldings and gilded accents. On the third floor, they stopped before a grand door—far more opulent than the lion-carved entrance outside. The clerk stepped forward and knocked twice.

  “Lord Clament, it’s Harris,” the elf announced. “I have an important guest who wishes to meet you. His name is Pell—the skeleton who arrived yesterday.”

  A brief rustling followed from within the room before a clear, commanding voice responded, “Thank you, Harris. He may come in.”

  Harris turned to Pell, bowing slightly. “Good luck with your meeting. I’ll be in the lobby if you need anything further.” With that, Harris departed, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

  Pell pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The room was both simple and lavish, striking a fine balance between practicality and elegance. Paintings adorned the walls, while a large mahogany desk sat at the far end, framed by a pair of towering windows that let in ample light. Sitting at the desk was a man draped in a striking red sash. His hair was neatly combed, his black beard meticulously trimmed. There was an unmistakable air of authority about him—dignified, steely, and composed, though not overtly threatening.

  “I wasn’t expecting to meet you today, Mr. Pell,” Clament said, his voice smooth and measured. “Let me begin by apologizing for any difficulties you’ve experienced during your time here. Many of us were unaware of your… unique status. The common folk, I’m afraid, are often ignorant in such matters.”

  Without invitation, Pell walked to one of the plush chairs positioned in the center of the room and sat down. His gaze didn’t meet Clament’s but drifted instead to the unoccupied chair across from him. “What’s done is done,” Pell said, his tone carrying a faint edge. “Though I’ll admit, it was a bit… irritating.” He let the words linger in the air. “Still, I understand—every city has its own rules and processes.”

  Clament, his expression unflinching, raised his bracer and spoke into the crystal embedded within. “Margel, please bring up two cups of Faerie Tea.” He nodded, likely in response to the acknowledgment from the other end, and then left his desk to take the chair opposite Pell. It was a small but deliberate gesture, a sign of deference to someone of perceived higher status.

  “Margel will be here shortly with—” Clament froze mid-sentence, realization dawning too late. He had made a grave error.

  “I… can’t drink anymore,” Pell said, his words slow, deliberate.

  An awkward silence hung in the room.

  “My sincerest apologies,” Clament said at last, his tone contrite. “It’s habit to serve our finest tea to honored guests.”

  Pell raised a hand, a sharp, dismissive motion. “The gesture is enough. Let’s move on.”

  Clament forced a polite smile, though inwardly, he winced. His earlier misstep with the tea would surely leave a mark on the skeleton’s impression of him.

  “May I ask the purpose of your visit today?” he inquired, his tone carefully even.

  Pell’s expression remained unreadable. “I came to discuss Enya—the high-noble child I’m currently traveling with.”

  “I see,” Clament replied, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is there an issue I can assist with?”

  “It’s not an issue, exactly,” Pell said, leaning forward slightly. “But as you might have guessed, Enya hails from the higher realm. I’m merely an assistant, hired by her grandmother, Lia Empyria, to accompany her on this journey. The arrangements and our being here were all done by her. Enya’s parents, however, are somewhat... unaware of her current whereabouts. Her grandmother felt it was important for Enya to explore the lower realms and gain experience on her own.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Pell spoke with practiced confidence, but his words were an obvious bluff. He needed a story plausible enough to be beyond normal verification. Enya’s robes bore the name Lia, so it seemed a safe choice to weave that name into the tale as a fabricated grandmother. After all, there was no possible way he could confirm it. And if push came to shove, having an appraiser identify her robes would prove some credibility of his story, at the very least.

  Clament’s brow arched slightly. “Her grandmother’s name is also Lia?”

  For a split second, the flames from within Pell’s skull flickered in surprise, but he quickly regained composure. Also Lia? Does this man have a daughter named Lia, or something? Maybe I should’ve done more research before this meeting, Pell thought. “Indeed. Lia is a common name among high-nobles. Personally, I can think of at least three with that name.”

  Clament gave a slow nod. “If that’s how high-noble families work, then so be it.”

  Unbeknownst to either of them, their conversation had plunged both parties into wildly incorrect assumptions about the other. But before the exchange could unravel further, a knock came at the door.

  Margel entered, carrying a tray with two cups of steaming tea. He set the tray down on the table with quiet precision, gave a courteous bow, and exited without a word.

  Clament’s expression faltered as his eyes flicked to the cups of tea and back to the skeleton, who obviously couldn’t drink them.

  “You may drink if you wish—don’t mind me,” Pell said, gesturing casually toward the table.

  Clament hesitated briefly before nodding. He leaned forward, took one of the cups, and sipped carefully. Setting it back down, he resumed their conversation. “So, her grandmother sent her to explore the lower layers without her parents’ knowledge. Is that correct?”

  “Precisely,” Pell confirmed. “I’m merely a humble assistant for Enya, ensuring her safety. That said, I have no means of contacting her family directly. The plan is to return to the upper layers once Enya feels she’s had her fill of... exploration down here. But I believe it’s my duty to at least inform her family that she’s safe.”

  Clament considered this, taking another measured sip of tea before placing the cup back on the table. “I see.”

  “What I’d like to ask,” Pell continued, his tone deliberate, “is whether you—or the city of Talo—have any means of contacting high-nobles in the upper layers.”

  Clament’s expression tightened, a look of mild frustration crossing his face as he leaned back in his chair. He began tapping his fingers against the armrest, his gaze shifting upward in thought.

  “For me personally,” he said after a pause, “I have no way of reaching high-nobility. Even as a city ruler, my authority doesn’t extend far enough to simply contact someone of their stature. You may not be aware of this, but high-nobles are seen as rulers—kings, queens, emperors, and empresses to those of us here in the fourth layer and below. For someone like me, even speaking to a high-noble is almost impossible, let alone arranging direct contact.”

  Pell knew this all too well. He still remembered the moment Enya had read her status aloud in the dungeon—her rank, her class, her potential. It had seemed unfathomable to him then, and even now, it lingered like a thorn in his thoughts.

  The real reason he was here today was simple: answers. Why had a young noble girl been abandoned in an undead dungeon? Where was her family? Were they even looking for her? The more time she spent with him, the more trouble she was bound to attract.

  Their paths never should have crossed. Their statuses were worlds apart. One word from Pell might sway a beggar or two. One word from Enya could shift the tides of an entire nation. Keeping her at his side wasn’t right—not for her future. Though, in his missing heart, Pell couldn’t deny the hypocrisy of his intentions. He had already ruined her class path, turning her from a potential grand mage into a necromancer—a dark sorcerer dealing in death and corpses. The least he could do now was return her to her family and give her a chance at the life she was meant to lead.

  She was attached to him, though. He could see it in her eyes and feel it in the way she followed his lead without hesitation. But it wasn’t born of love or care or anything resembling family. It was just... circumstance. Pell had been the first skeleton she encountered in the dungeon, and in her broken mental state, she had latched onto him like a hatchling imprints on the first creature it sees.

  That’s all her relationship was with him, in his mind. Circumstance.

  If she discovered his plan to send her back, she would resist. She’d fight. She’d want to stay.

  But staying was the wrong choice. It wasn’t her life, and it wasn’t what she deserved. Their bond was nothing more than the shared struggle of surviving the dungeon. Without that, they were strangers. And yet, even knowing all this, Pell couldn’t ignore the faint pang of guilt. The least he could do was help her find solid ground again—help her reclaim just a tiny bit of the future she had lost.

  Pell straightened in his chair, his tone measured. “Yes, I understand that to be the case down here. I’m aware of the power she holds, especially in comparison to the... commonfolk, such as yourself.” His words hung in the air, unsettling as they were, but necessary to maintain appearances.

  “That said,” Pell continued, leaning slightly forward, “are you telling me there is no possible way to contact the higher realm? It doesn’t need to be a high-noble, necessarily—just someone who could relay a message.”

  Clament stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Have you tried the information guild?”

  Pell expected the question. “I have. In fact, I’ve already sent a message to someone in the first layer—for unrelated business. However, the currency here is vastly different from what we use in the enchanted layers. I’ve avoided the guild so far because I doubt I have enough funds to pay for their services. Last time, Lorrin gave me a coin to cover the cost of a message, for which I am, of course, deeply grateful.”

  Pell’s gaze darkened slightly as he added, “I also want to keep this matter confidential. Contacting Enya’s family without her knowledge is... important. I couldn’t risk discussing it openly while she was nearby.”

  “I understand,” Clament replied. He leaned back, lifting his now-empty teacup for one final sip before setting it down gently. Interlocking his fingers, he crossed one leg over the other, his posture composed but contemplative. “As you likely know, the information guild operates independently from the city. They’re a separate entity entirely, and I have no authority over their processes or decisions.”

  Pell gave a small nod. It was the same with the adventurers’ guild and the magic association—organizations that existed apart from any one ruler’s influence. Not even a ruler could forcibly shut one of them down.

  “Even if I were to provide you with my own maker’s coin,” Clament began, “the information guild would likely still struggle to contact anyone in the enchanted layer. To the best of my knowledge, their ties to that realm are... tenuous at best. It’s possible the information guild doesn’t even operate there.”

  Pell’s expression darkened at that. He had hoped the city lord’s authority might at least allow him to reach a regular messenger, but that hope was rapidly slipping away.

  Noticing the shift in the skeleton’s demeanor, Clament quickly added, “That said, there may be another option. The Emperor of Karemere, Valegrad, might be able to assist you. Talo is the second-largest city in the Karemere Empire, after all, and I maintain regular communication with him. I send monthly reports on matters like finances and governance. The next report is due in just a few days—four, to be exact. I can include a request for his help in that report. The emperor’s reach may extend to the enchanted layer.”

  Pell’s gaze sharpened at this, though his tone remained measured. “Would he need my name—or Enya’s—to do so?” He wanted to tread carefully. If the emperor’s assistance required identifying them as “a high-noble named Enya and her assistant Pell,” it could open the door to countless complications. What if Enya’s family had abandoned her intentionally? Or worse, what if someone else intercepted the message? There was also the possible matter that he could be labeled as an impersonator—which he was.

  “Could the emperor request a communication method or gather information discreetly, without mentioning our names?”

  Clament nodded slowly. “He... should be able to. As the emperor, he commands his own network of communication. While it might be difficult, I believe he could contact someone in the upper layers without revealing your identities. If that’s your preference, it’s a safe approach.”

  “I see.” Pell inclined his head slightly, considering the option. “The reason I ask is simple. I want to gauge how her family is responding to her little... adventure. If they’re concerned, I’ll make direct contact. But if they aren’t—if they don’t care—then there’s no point in reaching out.”

  “Understood,” Clament replied. “In that case, I’ll include a request in my report to the emperor. I’ll inform him that a high-noble seeks a means of communication with the enchanted realm but will refrain from naming you or Enya.”

  “Excellent. That will suffice,” Pell said, rising to his feet. Clament mirrored the movement, standing with practiced ease and stepping forward to offer his hand. Pell extended his own bony fingers, and they shook firmly.

  “Is there anything else I may do for you?” Clament asked, his tone courteous.

  “Just… try to keep Enya’s identity as concealed as possible,” Pell said. “She’s still a child, and she might slip up now and then—accidentally revealing herself. I’d rather not risk her being... kidnapped while we’re staying in your city.”

  Clament’s expression grew firm. “Of course, Mr. Pell. I’ve already arranged for all guards in the city to discreetly keep an eye out for her wellbeing. I can assure you, no harm will come to her during her stay.”

  “And one last thing,” Pell added. “About the upcoming tournament—for the school. Make it as fair as possible. I don’t want anything rigged behind the scenes to ensure Enya wins. She’s young, but inflating her confidence by throwing matches just because of her status will do her no good. I’m not asking you to make it harder for her—if she wins, then that’s fine. Just don’t tip the scales in her favor.”

  Clament hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Very well. I will ensure the tournament remains fair and just, as it always has been.”

  Pell flashed a practiced, merchant’s smile. “Thank you, Lord Clament.”

  With that, he left city hall, his errands complete. After about an hour spent walking to and from the hall, along with the meeting itself, Pell returned to the inn. The common room had a handful of new patrons enjoying their morning meals, different from the ones he’d seen earlier. Behind the counter, Sheryl was still stationed, as reliable as ever. Pell offered her a slight nod before heading up the stairs.

  Reaching their room, he opened the door. The three skeleton guards stood motionless by the entrance. Ahead, Enya remained sprawled across the bed, her tiny frame tangled in the covers. She hadn’t stirred an inch in the past hour.

  With a faint sigh, Pell returned to his chair and settled in, resuming his “rest” for another hour or two.

  In his dreams—if they could even be called that—he imagined himself asking Clament for a bag of gold before leaving the meeting. After all, Pell’s debts weren’t going to pay themselves, and a little generosity from the city lord wouldn’t have hurt. But the dream quickly unraveled, turning into a nightmare where his identity was exposed. He saw himself being dragged off in chains, imprisoned for impersonating someone connected to a high-noble.

  It was an amusing thought, at least... until it wasn’t.