After Vulas left, the group naturally fell into discussion.
Ian also found it strange.
"Who was that?" Myrra asked, clearly unsettled.
Enira exhaled as if the whole thing had been no more than an annoyance. "Just someone from work. His father is a city councilman."
Myrra frowned. "Are you going to be okay?"
Enira gave a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."
"It's just a little city council," Lysian scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "One word from me, and he'll be out of office by morning."
Ian wasn't sure if Lysian was exaggerating, knowing him, he probably was, but at the same time, he could take care of certain things if it really came down to it. He came from a noble family, one with enough influence to actually do something if it came down to it.
Reina, who had been quiet until now, reached out and held Enira's arm. "If he bothers you again, let me know." Her voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable weight behind her words. Ian didn't know much about Reina's family, only that it was powerful, and far more mysterious than Rhy's and Lysian's.
Most of them, in fact, came from well-off backgrounds. Wealth, nobility, prestige, it was just a given in a place like Rulmose.
Enira felt a warmth in her chest. The Quiet Testament had been nothing but competition, cruelty, and hidden knives in the dark. But here... these people had only known her for a short time, yet they stood by her without hesitation.
While she was lost in thought, Ian mulled over the encounter. People here were generally more civil, reserved, even. Enira naturally drew attention, her presence impossible to ignore, but most would simply admire from a distance and move on. Even if someone wanted to approach her, they'd do it properly, with respect, not like Vulas, who had practically thrown himself at her. It was off-putting, unnatural.
And besides, at a certain level, appearance became almost meaningless. With enough mastery, anyone could adjust their body however they pleased. Physical beauty wasn't what truly mattered, it was the energy, the radiance a person carried.
So what's wrong with Vulas?
Was his mental state unstable? Or was there something else going on?
With the encounter behind them, they continued their tour, letting the tension fade into the background. Their next stop was a well-regarded restaurant, one that Enira recommended. The ambiance was warm, the scent of rich spices and grilled meats filling the air as they settled into their seats.
The group ordered a variety of dishes, sharing between themselves, the easy flow of conversation returning. Myrra, still somewhat wary about Vulas, subtly glanced at Enira from time to time, but Enira remained as composed as ever.
After the meal, they wandered through the district, eventually arriving at a dress shop, one Myrra had been eager to visit. The store was lined with elegant fabrics, vibrant colors, and intricate designs. Myrra wasted no time browsing, her eyes lighting up as she ran her fingers over a particularly exquisite gown.
As the rest of the group wandered off, browsing the different sections of the store, Ian remained with Myrra, watching as she sifted through dresses, occasionally holding one up for a moment before setting it back. She was focused, clearly enjoying herself, while Ian mostly just followed along.
Then, as they moved toward another section, Ian's eyes landed on something different, delicate lace, silk ribbons, a striking contrast to the elegant gowns Myrra had been considering. A smirk played on his lips as he reached out and casually picked up a particularly daring piece of lingerie, holding it up for her to see.
"This would suit you," he said, voice just low enough to make sure only she could hear.
Myrra turned to him, her gaze flicking from the lingerie to his face. Then, without missing a beat, she raised a hand and lightly knocked him on the head. "Pervert."
Ian chuckled, rubbing the spot. "I'm just making a helpful suggestion."
She gave him a look, but he caught the slight upward curve of her lips before she turned away. With an air of complete indifference, she continued browsing, until, when she thought he wasn't looking, she discreetly plucked the very same lingerie from the rack and slipped it into her shopping bag.
After finishing their shopping, the group continued their tour, taking in the sights of the city. Eventually, as evening set in, they made their way back to Rulmose, bidding Enira farewell.
Honestly, it had been a pleasant tour, except for that brief, unwelcome interruption by Vulas.
Later, as Ian settled back in his apartment he reached out to Enira, quietly communicating in his mind.
Enira exhaled softly, her tone light. "It's nothing serious. Just a nuisance, really.
"That's not what I asked."
She sighed. "He's been trying to make things difficult for Eryndor ever since he found out we're married. Nothing blatant, just small power plays, rumors and inconveniences"
Ian's mind sharpened. "And you?"
"He knows better than to push too far. My standing in the Quiet Testament is high enough that he can't just do as he pleases. He can be a nuisance, but that's about it."
Ian's response was straightforward. "If anything comes up, let me know."
Enira let out a soft chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."
For some reason, she found herself trusting Ian more than she expected.
After their conversation, Ian fell into thought. Even though Enira had assured him that things were fine, he wasn't the type to leave it at that. Depending on the Quiet Testament for protection wasn't ideal, and as a good boss, he had a responsibility to look after his subordinates.
Well, Eryndor seemed to be in more urgent need so starting with him seemed like a logical step. He wasn't exactly the most productive employee, but unless there was betrayal, Ian wasn't going to abandon him.
Let's see if there's anything that needs solving on his end.
While Ian was lost in thought, a quiet knock broke the silence. He looked up just as Myrra stepped inside, her usual composure tinged with hesitation. She didn't say anything at first, just crossed the room and sat beside him, close enough that he could feel her warmth. For a while, she simply stayed there, as if gathering her thoughts.
Then, finally, she spoke. "I'm worried about Sister Enira." Her voice was quiet, almost unsure. "Everything changed so suddenly… I don't even know how to respond to it. And now, with that guy involved…"
Ian wrapped an arm around her, his touch firm yet reassuring. "It will be fine," he murmured. "She might look different, but that doesn't change who she is. She still treats you the same, doesn't she?"
Myrra hesitated, her fingers gripping the fabric of his sleeve. Then, finally, she nodded. "Yeah… she does."
"Then don't worry," Ian assured her. "I'll talk to Eryndor first and see what's going on."
Myrra leaned into his embrace, her warmth pressing against him. Ian let his hand gently trace along her back, offering comfort in his own way. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little, and for a while, they just sat there, wrapped in the quiet of the moment.
Then, his hold tightened just slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Stay with me tonight," he said, his tone laced with something softer, something more unspoken.
Myrra hesitated again, but this time, it wasn't out of uncertainty. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, and after a beat, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Ian didn't need more than that. With a smooth motion, he shifted, guiding her toward the bed. As they lay together, his hand found her waist, fingers brushing over the curve of her hip. Myrra tensed for a fraction of a second before exhaling, relaxing into his touch.
His fingertips traced slow, idle patterns along her side, slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt just enough to feel the warmth of her skin. Myrra shivered, her breath hitching ever so slightly. Ian smirked, pressing just a bit closer, letting his hand wander further, teasing but never rushing.
Myrra swatted at his hand weakly. "Your hands are getting awfully bold…" she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Ian chuckled, not pulling away. "You're still here, though."
She didn't argue. Instead, she curled against him, her body fitting perfectly against his as the night stretched on.
The next morning, Ian reached out to Eryndor. Unlike with Enira, he couldn't speak to him directly through the control mark, but normal communication would do just fine.
Eryndor had been under a lot of stress lately. For some reason, everything around him seemed to be falling apart, one problem after another, all piling up with no clear cause. It almost felt like someone was targeting him, but that didn't make any sense. Who would bother with someone as insignificant as him?
Currently, he was in his office, hunched over his desk, running through the same issue for what felt like the hundredth time. The ancient artifacts, the ones he had personally arranged to be brought into the museum, were now stuck in limbo. The seller, after weeks of negotiations and agreements, had suddenly refused to send them.
The unveiling event was already planned. If the artifacts didn't arrive, the entire thing would collapse. Worst case, he'd get fired. Not that it would matter to the Quiet Testament, they didn't care about his career. But he did. He was an archaeologist by choice, not obligation. This job was something he actually loved.
And then there was Enira.
Things between them had never been perfect, but after her transformation, the distance between them had grown even wider. She was different now, not just in appearance but in presence. Standing beside her, he felt small. Weak. Insignificant. As if he didn't even belong in the same room anymore.
A man on the verge of losing both his job and his wife.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp chime of his communication device. He glanced at the name flashing on the screen, his body tensed.
Ian.
Although he was technically under Ian's control, Ian had never actually given him any orders. If not for the mark in his mind, Eryndor might have convinced himself the whole thing had been a dream.
Taking a deep breath and sending up a quick prayer that this wouldn't make his day even worse, he connected the call.
"Hello, Lord Ian. How can I help you?"
"I've told you before, you don't have to call me 'Lord' or any of that. Just Ian is fine."
"As you desire, my Lord," Eryndor replied instinctively.
Ian paused. "...Right. Whatever."
He exhaled, brushing past it. "How have things been going lately?"
Eryndor hesitated. "They're… going okay." But his voice lacked confidence.
"You don't have to lie to me," Ian said flatly. "I know you're dealing with something. Just tell me, maybe I can solve it."
Eryndor blinked, caught off guard. How did he know? He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Well… you are, of course you'd know." He shook his head before continuing. "It's this problem I'm dealing with..."
He explained the situation, how the artifacts he had secured for the museum had suddenly been withheld, how the entire unveiling event was now at risk, and how, if things went south, he might even lose his job.
Ian listened, nodding slightly. "I see, I see… so you need an ancient artifact."
"Best case scenario, the seller just fulfills his original promise," Eryndor said. "But if that doesn't work, I'll need a replacement, at least until I can put together a lawsuit against them."
Ian tapped his fingers on the desk, lost in thought. "Well… I have a few trinkets from the ruins back in Lylva. Maybe they can be of help."
Eryndor was pleasantly surprised. He knew about the ruins in Lylva, they were incredibly high-level, well he was there waiting for months to find uncover something from them. Even a minor artifact from there would be more than enough to cover his situation. He immediately began thanking Ian profusely, relief evident in his voice. "That would be a huge help! I can come to you and pick it up...."
"No, no," Ian interrupted. "I have some work in Ial Themar anyway. I'll bring it there."
With that settled, Ian wrapped up his usual studies and work at the Academy. By the end of the day, he set out for Ial Themar, heading toward Eryndor's museum.