Thorfinn Rowle was beginning to question whether he'd made a colossal blunder. Was Erwin right? Had someone truly extended an invitation? Was he on such familiar terms with the acolytes? Did Erwin have ties to them?
Rowle felt duped, trapped in an awkward spot he couldn't easily escape. It left him fuming.
He snapped coldly, "Vinda Rosier, what are you doing here? This isn't your playground. Nurmengard is a prison, not a holiday home."
Vinda's cheerful demeanor froze into a glare.
Erwin blinked in surprise. Bloody hell, this bloke had guts.
Rowle realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth. He'd let his irritation get the better of him, trying to assert dominance. Wrong target.
"I don't want to kill anyone, little Erwin. Get out," Vinda said icily.
Rowle's expression hardened. No one would take that lying down.
Erwin edged back a step, just in case blood started flying. As for using Rowle as a pawn? Pawns were expendable—plenty more where he came from.
But then Rowle turned and strode away without a backward glance.
Erwin had to admire the move. Impressive. A pawn worth keeping: knowing when to fold and when to stand firm. Pragmatic types like him lasted longest—and served best.
Rowle's logic was straightforward. Vinda and Erwin clearly knew each other well. Who was he fooling with his posturing? Vinda was no stranger to violence.
With Rowle gone, Vinda's smile returned. "Little Erwin, come in. The master's been waiting."
Erwin nodded. "Lead the way, then. I was so keyed up about meeting His Majesty that I barely slept."
Vinda's grin widened. Erwin noted how straightforward she was. Admire Grindelwald, and you were in.
They entered the castle. Erwin couldn't help but think the place had a grim, foreboding vibe—like a gothic ruin dressed up for Halloween. Tall spires, but rooms squeezed into oddly compact floors. One stiff breeze, and the whole thing might topple. Wizards and their eccentric tastes.
As they climbed the stairs, Vinda remarked, "Didn't expect the Deputy Head of the Auror Office to escort you here personally."
Erwin shrugged. "He's just eager to help."
Vinda chuckled, covering her mouth. "That's one way to put it. Ambitious fool, with real talent to back it up. However you reined him in, well done. But watch your back—best to eliminate loose ends once he's served his purpose."
Erwin smiled. "Noted, Aunt Vinda."
She paused, delighted. "Auntie? Makes me feel young. I like it."
"Then it's perfect," Erwin replied. "Suits you best."
Vinda beamed. What a charming lad.
She soon stopped at a door. "The master's inside. Go on."
Erwin asked doubtfully, "And you?"
"I'll fetch lunch. Steak sound good? No wine for you, but juice pairs nicely."
Erwin stared. They could order in? He felt a bit out of his depth.
"Anything's fine. Thanks," he said.
Vinda waved him off. "No trouble. In you go." With a crack, she Apparated away.
Erwin pushed the door open. Grindelwald sat cross-legged on the stone floor, looking every bit the fallen legend in his threadbare prison robes. He clutched a crumpled newspaper, a half-empty wine glass at his elbow. Without it, Erwin might have pitied the once-mighty wizard's decline.
He bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty Grindelwald, I'm Erwin Cavendish."
Grindelwald set the paper aside, eyeing him appraisingly. "Impressive magic. Remarkable, really."
Erwin opened his mouth for a modest response.
A magical chime rang in his mind: [Occlumency proficiency increased. At level five, excess converts to general spell mastery at a 10:1 ratio.]
Erwin froze. What the—? Were they starting with Legilimency? Were all these dark wizards so predictably nosy?
Surprise flickered in Grindelwald's gaze. "Exquisite Occlumency. At your age, shielding so well while keeping your edge sharp—your talent is downright frightening."
Erwin replied evenly, "Flattery, Your Majesty. But probing minds on first greeting? That's hardly courteous."
Grindelwald laughed softly. "Courtesy is for equals. When we met, you weren't one."
"And now?" Erwin pressed.
"Now? Your magic and shields hold up. I can respect that. Didn't expect a young talent like you." He leaned back. "Not bad at all."
"Thank you," Erwin said.
Silence stretched between them, thick and probing, as if time itself had stalled.
Vinda returned shortly, balancing a tray of lunch. She ignored their standoff, setting out plates with practiced efficiency. "Eat up, you two. It'll go cold."
Erwin broke into a grin. "Thanks, Aunt Vinda. Starving—the inn's breakfast was rubbish."
She smiled. "Dig in."
Grindelwald shot Erwin a glance but said nothing, settling at the table to slice his steak.
Vinda slipped out again, leaving them alone.
As Erwin cut into his own portion, Grindelwald observed. "Smaller bites, boy. Savor it properly. You're too hasty."
...
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