Warm light filled the room as they stepped inside.

The lord of Salca stood waiting for them.

He cut a modest figure for someone who ruled a city. His beard was short and neatly kept, his brown hair trimmed close, his posture straight without being rigid. He didn't look much older than forty-five, healthy, with none of the excess or decadence Trafalgar had seen in other lords. When his eyes met theirs, he immediately lowered himself into a vow.

Trafalgar watched him in silence as the man bowed.

Strong.

Not overwhelmingly so, but unmistakably. His presence carried weight, the kind that came from a refined core rather than display. Trafalgar judged it quickly. Around Prime. One full step above his own. In theory, more than enough to deal with a group of bandits operating near his city.

The man straightened and spoke with clear respect.

"Lord Trafalgar du Morgain, it is an honor to welcome a member of House Morgain to Salca," he said. His gaze shifted slightly, settling on Bartholomew. "And you as well, my lord's companion. May I ask your name?"

Bartholomew stiffened instinctively, shoulders tensing before he caught himself. "M-my name is Bartholomew," he said, bowing as best he could. "I-it's a pl-pleasure."

The lord smiled faintly, the expression easing the atmosphere rather than tightening it. "There's no need to be nervous," he said gently. "You are both guests here. Truly, thank you for what you did for this city."

He inclined his head again, not as deeply this time. "My name is Mathias. Please, take a seat."

Trafalgar nodded once and moved forward without ceremony. Bartholomew followed, still visibly adjusting, but steadier than before.

The table was already set when they sat down.

There was more food than Bartholomew had expected, warm dishes laid out with care rather than excess. The smell alone reminded him how much the tension of the day had taken out of him. He didn't wait long before eating, hunger getting the better of restraint after everything that had happened.

Trafalgar, by contrast, moved with practiced calm. He ate slowly, following etiquette without thinking about it, his attention never fully leaving the room. Mathias joined them, eating as well, the moment surprisingly normal given how the day had unfolded.

Trafalgar didn't let that normalcy linger.

"Mathias," he said evenly, setting his utensils down. "With your strength, you could have dealt with those bandits yourself. Why didn't you?"

Mathias met his gaze without flinching. He didn't seem offended by the question. If anything, he looked relieved to answer it.

"You're right," he said after a moment. "I could have." He sighed softly. "But they weren't as foolish as they looked. They never gathered in one place. Never stayed long. And the old man—what I called their leader—was never there when I moved."

He shook his head. "He wasn't a frontline fighter. He recruited, coordinated, vanished. They always knew where I was. Every time I tried to act, they slipped away before I could reach them."

Mathias paused, fingers tightening slightly around his cup. "When you arrived, everything changed. They didn't know who you were. They underestimated you." His voice lowered. "That made all the difference."

He inclined his head again, more sincerely now. "I'm sorry for what happened. I know this wasn't why you came to Salca." He looked between them. "If there's anything I can do to repay you, anything you need, you only have to ask."

Trafalgar didn't hesitate.

"There is something," he said, tone even. He turned his head slightly, eyes settling on Bartholomew. The gesture was small, but clear.

Bartholomew froze for half a second, then stopped eating. He set his utensils down carefully and cleared his throat, shoulders straightening as if he were bracing himself.

Mathias noticed the shift immediately. He gave a small nod. "Go on," he said. "Ask."

Bartholomew took a breath. "A-almost a year ago," he began, voice steadier than it would have been days ago, "there were reports of Rifts appearing near this area. We're studying them for the academy, and Salca is one of the most accessible places where it's known that Rifts appeared." He hesitated only briefly. "We were hoping to visit the site. To learn what we can."

Trafalgar listened without interrupting, but surprise flickered beneath his calm.

'That was smooth,' he thought. 'You're lying naturally now.'

For a moment, he wondered if he really was a bad influence. Then the thought shifted, replaced by quiet approval. It was creative. And more importantly, it made sense.

Mathias exhaled slowly, gaze dropping to the table before lifting again.

"Yes," he said. "That's true." He nodded once. "Almost a year ago, Rifts appeared south of the city. In a monster hunting field not far from here." His expression tightened slightly. "Hunters were the ones who warned us. It's not a dangerous area. Mostly low-level Pulses. People go there for materials."

He paused.

"What was strange," Mathias continued, "was that when we arrived, the Rifts were already closed." His eyes narrowed a fraction. "All we found were bodies. Void creatures. Nothing else."

Bartholomew listened intently, hands clenched together beneath the table.

"We sealed the area for a time," Mathias went on. "But many people make their living there. Selling materials, hunting. So after a while, it was reopened." He looked back at them. "That's all I know."

He inclined his head. "You're free to go and see it yourselves. With your strength, there shouldn't be any danger."

"I see," Trafalgar said. "Thank you. That helps."

Trafalgar didn't let the silence linger.

"Why didn't you ask for outside help?" he asked calmly. "Other cities. Other territories. The council." His gaze remained steady. "You have a Gate. Reinforcements could have arrived."

Mathias let out a long breath, shoulders easing as if the question itself carried weight he was used to bearing.

"We did," he said. "The request was sent." His mouth tightened slightly. "But the process is slow. Painfully so. It can take years before anything comes of it." He looked down for a moment. "The world is large, Lord Trafalgar. And I am not part of a powerful family. I don't have the influence to make things move faster."

There was no bitterness in his voice. Just fact.

Trafalgar nodded once. He didn't press further. He had heard enough.

The meal came to a close not long after, conversation easing into quieter exchanges before fading altogether. When they stood, Mathias rose with them.

"I hope," he said sincerely, "that from this point on, your stay in Salca will be more pleasant." He bowed his head. "Thank you for visiting a city so far removed from the rest of the world."

"We'll be on our way," Trafalgar replied. "Thank you for the information."

Mathias returned the vow, just as respectful as before.

And with that, the evening ended, the answers they sought still ahead of them, waiting where the city no longer reached.

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