A warm smile spreads on my face at the familiar voice.
"Hello, Mr. Ranviel."
"A meeting with Ms. Triophlem," he asks.
"Yes, I had a question. She was very…helpful."
A ghost of a chuckle escapes Mr. Ranviel's lips.
"She does give full answers. Did you enjoy the tea?"
I nod. It was surprisingly tasty despite how haphazardly, and hastily it was made. It was an old tea with a strong and thorough flavor with a touch of sweetness. It lingered like dust on my tongue.
"It was an old tea. I don't believe I've had it before," I mention.
"She is quite the collector," Mr. Ranviel says, "And your meeting what did you two discuss?"
"A Mad scholar, his name, Erin Inqu…" I trail off as an expression I never thought I'd see on Mr. Ranviel's face appears for a moment—intense anger. He composes himself quickly but to witness such an oppressive rage for someone like Mr. Ranviel was shocking to say the least.
