Within the grandest residence in the City of Maroth, an opulent gathering hall was found. The interior was spacious, quiet, and richly decorated. The walls were covered with hand-embroidered tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles, magical beast hunts, and the emblems of House Celdrik. Crystal chandeliers suspended in the air by levitation spells bathed the room in warm light, while a crimson carpet ran from the entrance to a high-backed throne carved from ebony. There, seated with the serenity befitting a nobleman, was Baron Celdrik.

  He was a middle-aged man, with a straight posture and an almost regal bearing. His hair, a brilliant gold barely dulled by age, fell in neat strands over his forehead. He shared many features with his daughter Alicia: a clear, sharp gaze, a well-defined jaw, and that noble air that seemed innate in both. However, the years and experience had sharpened his face with strategic wrinkles, like political scars. He wore a dark velvet cloak with gold embroidery, and across his chest hung a family crest, worn by time, more like a family heirloom.

  To his right, sitting in a more modest armchair but with an expectant attitude, was an old man with deep-set eyes and ash-white hair that fell in thick strands over his shoulders. His robes were laden with arcane symbols, and he had a thin staff resting on his thigh. This man was his magical advisor and bodyguard, a figure who rarely spoke publicly but never failed to observe the details. At that moment, his eyes were fixed on Paul.

  Paul stood before the Baron, his back straight and his hands behind his back. He wore a uniform very similar to the old wizard's, much simpler and unadorned, though slightly wrinkled from his recent journey. His face was slightly drawn, still marked by the encounter with the entity from Alexander's house, and although his voice had been firm as he recounted the events that had occurred, his respect for the Baron was absolute.

  The atmosphere had remained silent since Paul finished speaking. The tension was palpable, as if even the air had frozen so as not to interrupt the Baron's thought process. On the large table in front of them rested the statue of Alice, brought by the guards just a few hours before.

  The Baron had gazed at her for long minutes. The level of detail was extraordinary: the folds of the dress seemed to move in the nonexistent breeze in the hall, and the expression on his daughter's face was captured with such precision that for a moment it seemed she was breathing. It wasn't simply a masterpiece; it was an assertion of power, of talent… and probably of magic.

  "So… the sculptor, Alexander, showed no hostile gesture toward Alicia?" the Baron finally asked, without taking his eyes off the statue.

  "None, my lord," Paul replied, his voice controlled. "He was courteous, respectful… even, in a way, humble. But the house… the house was a totally different experience, at least for me and one of the guards."

  The baron nodded very slowly, his fingers tapping on the throne's armrest. His mind worked like a well-oiled machine, processing variables, weighing possibilities.

  "A magical tower," he said softly. "No, a magical house. Or at least, a tower disguised as a house. A magician who wishes to live in silence? A hermit? A fallen nobleman? A spy?"

  He turned to the old man at his side. "What do you think, Lucien?"

  The old wizard merely narrowed his eyes, his expression dry. "From what I've heard, the house is beyond conventional. Whatever lives inside has all the hallmarks of a magical tower automaton spirit. Though I'd say it's something more experimental, given the abilities it seems to have, because of the tower spirits I've heard about, at least within the duchy and surrounding kingdoms, they tend to be more direct and don't use illusions in that way. It's certainly dangerous for the unprepared, but also fascinating. This Alexander could be a prodigy magician, someone who renounced fame or control of the academies and the empire, among many other possibilities."

  The baron stood with measured elegance and walked around the statue, observing it from different angles. Then he asked Paul, "Alicia didn't seem perturbed by the encounter, correct?"

  “Correct, my lord. She carried on a completely normal conversation with Alexander, even seeming to enjoy his serious and eccentric personality, praising his art and placing endless demands on the statue she wanted.”

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  “That’s what worries me most,” the Baron murmured. “A powerful mage is never this harmless and patient with someone of Alicia’s stature and personality. Even less so if he’s one of those capable of building a magic tower…” He stroked his fingers through the curls sculpted into the statue’s stone hair. “Whatever he is, Alexander is more than a sculptor. And if he’s chosen to settle in my lands, it could be a great problem or a great opportunity.”

  The Baron returned to his throne, his composure intact, but his gaze sharper than ever. “I want you to find out everything you can about this Alexander, especially outside the Duchy. I don’t think it’s impossible to find information on an artist of this caliber.”

  “I’m going to use my contacts within the academy to inquire about information. But we need to look at this from a broader perspective, as we may be dealing with something more delicate than it seems,” said the elder Lucien, his voice raspy but firm. “If what Paul says is accurate, and this spirit within the house possesses such a high level of power, I wouldn’t be surprised if Alexander were an envoy from a neighboring kingdom. A covert agent, perhaps someone from the Circle of Glasgard, a servant of the Crimson Throne, or worse, a member of the cursed Zodiac. Establishing a surveillance network from a forgotten corner like this wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

  Baron Celdrik barely turned his head toward his old advisor. His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes bore into him with a mixture of patience and condescension.

  “Lucien…” he said in a measured, yet firm voice. “A mage who can sculpt a work like this” he gestured with his chin to the statue of his daughter, “and at the same time control an entity capable of reducing Paul to a wet rag in seconds, is not a mere intelligence pawn. Do you think someone with that power would lend himself to playing spy? Posing as a provincial sculptor?”

  Lucien didn’t reply, but his face hardened slightly.

  “No, old friend,” the Baron continued, rising again and pacing slowly in front of the enchanted windows. “If this situation tells me anything, it’s that Alexander is on the run from something, or someone. It’s very likely a powerful mage who has severed ties with his homeland. An exile, or even a renegade.”

  The baron took a bottle of wine and a glass from the sideboard and poured himself calmly. "And now he lives here, among peasants, selling statues to earn his living. A man like that doesn't want anyone watching, inquisitors, contracts, or oaths. He probably doesn't need protection either. What he wants is to be left alone."

  Lucien crossed his arms, still doubtful. "What if all this is part of the deception?"

  The baron smiled slightly, as if amused by the old man's paranoia. "I doubt it. A good spy hides where leaders and power reside. Alexander, although in a simple manner, exhibits himself, makes art, and charges like a normal artist. He receives a baron's daughter without complaint and gives her a statue of unparalleled quality, as if he wanted to curry favor with us without seeming servile. No... This man is not a spy. He is an eccentric, perhaps even an idealist. But if there's one thing I'm clear about, it's that he doesn't want to be controlled by anyone."

  He drained his glass in one gulp and looked back at the statue of Alice. His face was now colder and more calculating. "And that's precisely why we must pay attention to him, without disturbing him too much. A free mage is always a risk. Not because he plans to harm us... but because he can do so if cornered. I don't exactly have the political clout to summon a Level 7 or higher mage from the Duchy or the Empire without a valid reason or a clear threat. What if this Alexander is a member of some royal family in exile? Or a retired member of the Oculus of the Border? The amount of trouble I'd get into would be too much to keep my head."

  He turned to Paul and Lucien with renewed determination. "We'll just keep a discreet watch on the village, nothing invasive. I don't want to arouse suspicion."

  The Baron returned to his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he drummed his fingers against the armrest. He stared at the statue of Alice as if it might reveal another secret.

  "Perhaps the best way to deal with a magician like Alexander is simply to be a good neighbor," he finally said, after several seconds of silence. "If he is truly a man who wishes to live in peace, then he will appreciate our help. And if he is not, his reactions will reveal his true intentions."

  Paul looked at him carefully, knowing something was brewing.

  "What do you suggest, my lord?" he asked in a measured voice.

  The baron smiled faintly, a mirthless smile. “Clients, Paul. We’ll send him clients. Bored nobles, mages, and bureaucrats who want to leave their mark in stone or bronze. If the man wants to be a sculptor, we’ll treat him as such. We’ll give him work, and in that work, he’ll reveal what he is. The pressure of commissions, the whims of the powerful, the need to meet deadlines. All of this will allow us to see if we’re dealing with a temperamental artist… or something more dangerous. Let others reveal his true nature, if he’s hiding something.”

  Lucien gave a small laugh from his seat. “If I may suggest, my lord,” he said with a sarcastic sneer, “I know several high-level mages in the capital whom I deeply detest. Conceited, pretentious people with the aesthetic sense of a donkey in a wig. They would make perfect test subjects for this Alexander. If he can endure them without blowing up, we'll know he has real patience and no real malicious intent. “

  The Baron couldn't help but chuckle softly at the joke, though his eyes remained as cold as steel. But let's start with the least irritating. We don't want to lose our sculptor before his time.

  "Of course, my lord," the old man replied with a wry bow. "Though I'm saving the worst for last... in case we decide to test the true limits of that living statue."

  The Baron leaned back in his seat, satisfied with his plan. "Alexander is a double-edged sword. If we handle him well, he can become a jewel of this county, possibly even the duchy. If not... well, at least someone else will be the one to call on the imperial repressive forces."

  The meeting ended without further words. But Baron Celdrik's gaze already revealed more plans for the future.