They entered the estate through heavy double doors that opened before Mr. Klein even had the chance to knock, as if someone had known for a long time that they were coming. From the first step inside, Roland felt it,he'd walked into a place that ran on rules entirely different from the rest of the city.
The interior was bright and spacious. Wide corridors of smooth stone led deeper into the manor, and the silence wasn't the kind that came from emptiness,it came from discipline. Servants moved almost soundlessly, absorbed in their duties, barely acknowledging the guests unless it was necessary.
Roland spotted maids in clean, pale uniforms carrying trays, documents, and small items. There were also attendants and stewards exchanging brief, practical remarks, as if the whole estate were a well-oiled machine where everyone knew their exact place.
They were guided into a guest room,large and richly furnished, with soft chairs, a low table, and wide windows overlooking an inner garden. The plants there grew in neat, peaceful rows, as if they had never known hunger or neglect.
"Please wait," one of the maids said in a quiet, neutral voice. She gave a small bow and left, closing the door behind her.
They were alone.
At first, Roland sat rigidly upright, notebook on his knees and the magical pen in his hand. He was afraid to set it down, as if it were the only thing that justified his presence here at all.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Mr. Klein sat calmly with both hands resting on his cane, staring ahead without impatience, as if waiting was simply part of the work.
Roland glanced at the door.
Nothing.
After what felt longer than it really was, he realized he was starting to get bored,while also being terrified to move, speak, or even shift in his chair. Mr. Klein carried himself as though the silence itself was part of the meeting.
Only after more than an hour did the door open again.
A middle-aged man stepped in, dressed in a light-colored robe cut perfectly to his frame. It wasn't ostentatious, but the fabric was of a quality Roland couldn't even name. The man's unhurried stride and steady gaze belonged to someone used to being waited on.
Lord Arven Halven.
He didn't wear a broad smile, but his face held a kind of politeness that didn't require proof,because no one would dare question it.
"Mr. Klein," he said, inclining his head in a gesture that might have looked like respect from far away, but up close was more like a courteous acknowledgment of someone's usefulness. "Thank you for coming."
"Always at your service," Mr. Klein replied calmly.
Lord Halven didn't even glance at Roland.
As if the boy were part of the furniture.
Mr. Klein then took a small metal device from his bag,something Roland had seen before but never in action,and placed it on the table. With a short motion of his hand, he activated it.
A translucent sheet of light appeared above the table, like a thin pane of glass. Images and diagrams began forming across it.
Roland caught his breath.
A magic display,one of those things he'd only heard about in stories, used for presentations, negotiations, and documents among wealthy clients.
To him, it was extraordinary.
To Mr. Klein and Lord Halven, it was a tool.
"Let's begin with this," Mr. Klein said, indicating the first image on the glowing surface: the outline of a long blade with a dark, slightly roughened edge. "A sword built on the spine of a stone predator from a third-tier dungeon, with a mid-grade core set into the hilt as an energy-flow stabilizer."
The image zoomed in, revealing fine construction details.
"The material itself resists micro-fractures under overload," Klein continued, "and the core isn't meant to actively enhance strikes,only to maintain a constant magical structure. That way the blade doesn't lose its properties, even after prolonged use."
Lord Halven leaned forward slightly.
"Was the core processed?" he asked, tone calm.
"Minimally," Klein answered. "Its natural compatibility with the monster material was preserved. That makes the weapon responsive even to users without high magical synchronization."
That mattered.
Roland wrote it down immediately,because it meant the weapon wasn't limited to house mages. It could be issued to guards and officers as well, which raised its practical value.
Lord Halven nodded, but his expression didn't shift.
"And the second item?" he asked.
Mr. Klein changed the image.
This time it was a shorter weapon,something between a spear and a long rapier,with a noticeably brighter core set closer to the blade.
"A piercing weapon," Klein said. "The core comes from a parasitic-type monster capable of storing energy in short bursts. Purpose: rapid breach of magical barriers and shields."
Lord Halven raised an eyebrow.
"Single-use discharge, or repeatable?"
"Repeatable," Klein replied. "With limits. The core needs time to recover. Overuse destabilizes it, so it isn't designed for sustained combat,only precise strikes."
A brief silence followed.
Roland watched Lord Halven weigh the weapon's worth,not in coin, but in the advantage it could grant in the right hands.
"Show me the next one," Lord Halven said.
And so for the next hour, Klein presented weapon after weapon, giving Lord Halven details,materials, cores, limitations, applications.
At last, when there was nothing left that seemed to interest him, Lord Halven spoke again.
"Let's discuss the terms."
Klein nodded, and numbers and contract lines appeared across the glowing screen.
"The unit price has been reduced by fifteen percent from market value," Klein began, "in exchange for guaranteed ongoing deliveries of low- and mid-grade cores for the next two quarters."
"Ten percent," Lord Halven cut in. "And only for the first shipment."
Mr. Klein didn't disagree immediately.
"Then we request priority selection from materials recovered in future expeditions," he said after a moment. "No intermediaries."
Lord Halven considered it.
"Not priority," he said. "But access to the list before distribution is approved."
Roland kept writing, feeling the balance tilt further and further in favor of the house,one that didn't need to hurry, and didn't need to fear a lack of alternatives.
"Transport remains your responsibility," Lord Halven added. "And liability for damage until delivery to our warehouses as well."
"I understand," Klein replied calmly, though Roland already knew what that meant: more costs that weren't reflected in the price.
"And one more thing," Lord Halven continued. "House Halven reserves exclusivity for this weapon type within the city."
Mr. Klein nodded.
A clause like that formally shut the door on selling similar pieces to anyone else.
By the time the discussion ended, Roland had several pages of notes. On paper the deal looked solid, but the real profit was thin. The real payment was keeping the relationship with a house that could stop being a client at any moment,and ruin them by doing so.
Mr. Klein ended the presentation and put the device away. Lord Halven rose, signaling the meeting was over.
For him, it was one contract among many.
A maid appeared almost silently, as if she'd been waiting just outside the door the entire time,ready to end the meeting at precisely the right moment. For some, it had been a formality. For others, it had been the event of the day.
"This way, please," she said softly, opening the door and stepping back to make room.
Mr. Klein stood first and gave her a small nod. Roland rose immediately after him, careful not to show how relieved he was to leave the room where he'd spent the last hour feeling like he shouldn't breathe too loudly.
The corridors looked the same as before,bright and immaculate, smooth walls and gentle light that cast no harsh shadows, as if utility magic ensured even that nothing ever looked too severe.
Servants passed them without a word, focused on their duties. They didn't look at them any longer than necessary,and if they did, it was with the indifference of people long used to guests, trained not to ask questions.
When they stepped out into the inner courtyard, Roland slowed almost instinctively.
Near one of the fountains, two young people,a woman and a man about his age,stood facing each other. Between them, magic pulsed, visible even to someone who couldn't use it.
It wasn't a fight to the death.
It was practice.
The woman made a short motion with her hand, and the air in front of her condensed into a semi-transparent barrier like a thin pane of glass,except Roland knew ordinary glass wouldn't survive even a punch.
The man responded at once, drawing energy along his forearm and sending a wave of force into the barrier. It struck without a boom, leaving only a tremble in the air.
Roland stared, spellbound.
Since childhood, magic had fascinated him,not as a weapon or a path to power, but as something beautiful and orderly. Something that gave the world sense and structure. Something you couldn't cheat or talk your way around.
He saw it in the cores he counted every day.
In the tools they powered.
In adventurers' stories, even when half of them were exaggerated.
And now he saw it here,used freely by people his own age, as if it were obvious. As if they had the right to it from birth.
For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to stand where they stood. To feel that tension in his hands, the awareness that the world responded to every movement,that magic wasn't just something you wrote into ledgers or locked inside objects.
But he knew it was a dangerous thought.
He wasn't from a house.
He didn't have a name that mattered.
He was only a merchant's assistant from the outer district,someone who knew the value of things, but had no right to use them like that.
"Roland," Mr. Klein said calmly, not raising his voice.
Roland flinched and immediately followed, though his eyes lingered a moment longer on the courtyard, as if trying to memorize every gesture and every flash of energy before it vanished from sight.
He caught up to Mr. Klein at the gate, slowing only once they were a few meters away and the sounds of the courtyard began to fade behind them.
The maid stopped and bowed lightly, just as she had before,emotionless, but perfectly composed, her manners born not of warmth but of habit.
"Safe travels," she said evenly.
"Thank you," Mr. Klein replied, returning the bow with the same measured restraint, then continued on without looking back.
Roland followed, feeling the distance grow with every step until the gate was behind them and the aristocratic world began sealing itself shut again.
The maid waited until the guests had gone far enough to disappear from view. Then she turned and returned deeper into the estate, back into the corridors where more duties awaited,people for whom her presence was simply expected.
Roland glanced back one last time.
The gate stood unmoving.
And just as unmoving was the world on the other side,one that had accepted them only for a moment, then closed again as if they had never been there at all.