For a moment, Greta just stood there, trying to adjust to the strange warmth of the place. The air inside was cozy, yes, but not in a way she disliked. It was simply unfamiliar, like stepping into someone else's memory. After all, she'd only just arrived in Eisthal.
The servants moved with quiet precision, almost ghostlike in their discipline. One of them, a young woman with light brown hair tucked beneath a gray apron—approached with a polite bow.
They all looked ... normal. Heads bowed, eyes lowered, focused entirely on their tasks. Whatever storm was brewing around their master, they didn't seem to know, or perhaps they'd learned not to ask. When Greta's teacup ran dry, it was refilled instantly, without a word.
She waited in the sitting room, the fire crackling gently in the hearth, its flames fueled by enchanted stones that glowed with steady warmth. The door, closed since her arrival, finally creaked open.
James stepped through, the man Matthias had called by name earlier.
