Theolin got to spend a decent amount of time with Mercedes that night. It was easy to see how busy she was with the large crowd that filled the Inn, and he suspected that such crowds were fairly typical for the Dew Drop. He almost felt foolish for thinking he could have dinner with her at a regular hour with the amount of work she undoubtedly had to do each and every day, but from the moment she smiled at him when she had first approached him, he convinced himself to stop worrying about silly mistakes that meant nothing in the long run.<br/><br/>During the dinner break that Mercedes chose to graciously spend with him, the two managed to talk as if they had known one another for ages. Theolin has always believed he would like Mercy, but he was still genuinely amazed at how giddy he felt as he made her smile with his stories and as he listened to her own tales. By the time it was nearly time for her to return to work, Theolin wanted any excuse to keep her at the table so they could continue talking.<br/><br/>Still, before she went back to work, Theolin did offer her something as a small gift: something he had cooked himself. It was a simple confectionary item popular among the Elves called a<em>flemeul dei’in</em>, or a butterfly bun in the common tongue: a simple pastry stuffed with fruit jam and dusted with assorted sweet sugars. The buns were small, about the size of a coin, but were sweet and tangy when cooked properly. Theolin didn’t know if Mercedes had ever tasted one, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind trying one from made by his hand.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>It didn’t take long for Aolieth to return to Ethirdir’s manor, and this time the Elf was far more cordial than last time. Apparently the Mage had taken Ethirdir’s promise of a Basilisk Heart seriously, and didn’t want a haughty servant to jeopardize the chances of obtaining such a covetous prize. Ethirdir didn’t understand why that couldn’t mean the Lord Mage coming directly to see him in person, but at least the point had gotten across.<br/><br/>“I discussed your request with the Lord Mage,” said the servant, struggling to appear contrite but seemingly physically incapable of expressing such an emotion, “and he had agreed to your condition to meet face to face. He wishes to meet three days from now, at midnight at his chateau, and will only speak with you if you bring the item with you. He wishes to see it for himself before he makes any offer.”<br/><br/>The Mage was smart, obviously, and Ethirdir knew he had little choice. Of course, he doubted the Mage would dare double cross him - any action untoward would bring unwanted attention on him really quickly, merchants were famous for having plenty of safeguards to prevent theft. “I accept your Master’s conditions. I shall be at his chateau on the appointed day, with the Heart for him to examine. In return, I expect him to be ready to open his purse for such an expensive item.”<br/><br/>“If the item is authentic, you will receive your gold,” Aolieth replied, returning to the same condescending tone as before. “Until then, good sir.” With that, the servant bowed and left the premises, his brief task complete.<br/><br/>Pleased to have a date and time set for the sale of the Basilisk Heart, Ethirdir rubbed his hands in glee as he thought of all the money he - and Hana - would be making from this transaction. Speaking of which, he realized he needed to prepare for the party for her and Doryn. Luckily, he was very familiar with planning such events on such short notice, so it wouldn’t take too much effort to get things in order. Still, he needed a few things ordered, so he hurried to his office to get the ball rolling...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>While Theolin was busy doing his best to convince Mercedes that he might be worth seeing again, and while his master Ethirdir was finalizing the arrangements for both the deal with the Archmage and the party he was hosting, Alyssa was making her way back to the manse where the Baron resided. Not too long ago, she had been instructed by Quillian to return to the manor and retrieve her things so she could then run away from the danger that the Baron seemed to pose to her. If it were entirely up to her, she wouldn’t return to the manor at all - why put herself at risk to retrieve mere things when the Baron was insane and fully capable of killing her without a care in the world?<br/><br/>Ah, but they weren’t just things; Alyssa had some prized items back in the Baron’s manse, including her mother’s locket and her the last letter her late father ever wrote to her. Such things were irreplaceable, and she couldn’t allow them to get tossed into a fire once the Baron realized she was never coming back. So she returned to the manse with gritted teeth and a beating heart, hoping upon hope that it was late enough that she could get in and out without too much trouble.<br/><br/>The house felt incredibly quiet when she entered through the side entrance meant for servants. Her room was thankfully not far from that entrance - servants weren’t expected to reside anywhere deep within the home, where the Baron dwelled. All she had to do was go down a short corridor, past doors where other servants lived, and she would be in her own personal chambers. Then it wouldn’t take long to get her things together, pack everything up in a single small pack, and leave before anyone even missed her...<br/><br/>“There you are. I was wondering when you’d come home.”<br/><br/>Alyssa froze when she entered her chamber and found a familiar, hideous face staring back at her from her bed. She hadn’t expected to see Gregor again upon returning to the manor, but seeing that repulsive face made her realize she should’ve kept an eye out for him.<br/><br/>“What...what are you doing in my room?” she demanded, trying to distract him with his blatant invasion of privacy.<br/><br/>“I’m here to relay a message,” Gregor said, standing up from her bed while keeping his beady black eyes trained on her. “The Baron wanted me to make sure you knew that he expects to see you again tomorrow morning with the sunrise in his office.”<br/><br/>There was no light in that room save the faint moonlight streaming in through the line window, so Alyssa was grateful that Gregor couldn’t see the blood drain from her face. “What...? But why...? I already had an audience with him...”<br/><br/>“It’s a follow up, that’s all he said,” the man replied, grinning with a devious smile as he walked past the stunned maid. As he drew alongside her, Gregor stopped and turned to look down at the poor girl. “You know...you’re bed’s pretty soft. Care to make sure it holds up to a lot of pressure?”<br/><br/>Alyssa, despite fear welling up in the pit of her stomach, had to resist the urge to slap the disgusting man in his vile face. Instead she simply looked up at him and hissed, “Get out of my room...now...”<br/><br/>Gregor only widened his sneer at her words. “Careful what you say, or you might lose more the your job.”<br/><br/>With those words ringing in her ears, Gregor left the room, closing the door behind him. It didn’t matter that there was no lock on the door; Alyssa was effectively trapped. The Baron knew...or at least suspected, and she was now being watched like a hawk. She so badly wanted to have the brains to figure out what she needed to do to escape, but all she could do for the rest of the night was curl up on her bed and cry her eyes out...