As Rebo stepped outside, his horse was still tethered to the tree, but now it looked fresh and clean, as if the rain and mud had never touched it. He untied the reins and mounted the purebred steed, setting off toward the estate of Baron Lonna with a newfound sense of calm. After all, he was now an apprentice to a powerful magician.
The forest path after the rain was muddy and slick, with water droplets still falling from the canopy above. The leaves of the plants that brushed against him were heavy with rain, wetting his already damp clothes. Though his horse moved steadily and smoothly, the splashes of mud were unavoidable, and soon Rebo was once again covered in spots of dirt and water. Slowing his pace, he let the horse trot leisurely along the trail, bathed in the fading red hues of the setting sun.
When Rebo reached the place where the fallen tree had blocked the road earlier, he saw a group of workers clearing the path, pushing a long cart loaded with timber. The muddy tracks of a passing carriage could still be seen on the road, making him wonder if other guests of the baron had recently passed by.
Rebo greeted the workers politely, thanking them for their efforts in clearing the road, and then spurred his horse forward. The baron's estate was deep in the woods, and while it might take a regular carriage about half an hour to traverse the muddy path, Rebo's fine horse managed it in less than ten minutes. Soon, the red roof of the estate came into view.
Emerging from the forest, Rebo saw a cleared area of about twenty acres, split in half by a clear stream. On one side of the stream were small farm plots, full of ripe vegetables and fruits—autumn's bounty in full display. On the other side lay a lush green field, more natural and less manicured than the velvet lawns of the Haide estate, dotted with a few trees: willows, locusts, and two grand ginkgo trees whose golden leaves fluttered down into the stream.
A two-story villa stood at the far end of the field, its red roof glowing in the evening light. Rebo wasn't sure if the roof was truly that color or if it was simply a trick of the sunset. The villa's walls were made of simple blue-gray bricks, outlined with white mortar. The iron fence and wooden-framed windows suggested a modest, yet dignified home. Glass windows, though, indicated the wealth of the family, as glass was still a luxury item.
Near the house, a row of modest cottages—wooden roofs and walls—lined one side of the field, likely the homes of the estate's servants. Behind them, Rebo assumed, were the stables and perhaps barns for livestock.
The estate looked much like any other in the southern parts of France. Despite the title of nobility, the estate exuded simplicity, reminding Rebo that, underneath the aristocratic titles and wealth, these people were still just like ordinary folk.
Rebo sighed and gently spurred his horse toward the estate.
The road leading to the villa's front door was paved with stone slabs, and a smaller path alongside was lined with gravel. A delicate bridge spanned the stream, vines curling around its stone arches, hinting at its age.
As he approached, two servants emerged from the villa, followed by the baron's daughter. Unlike her elegant appearance at the ball, she was dressed simply today in a white, short-sleeved dress, with no jewelry except for a blue silk ribbon tied around her waist in a butterfly knot.
"You finally made it! We were worried the storm had kept you away after hearing about the tree struck by lightning blocking the road. How did you manage to come on horseback? Riding all the way from Laire, over a hundred leagues, seems dangerous. What if you had fallen and hurt yourself?" the baron's daughter, Fanny, said, instructing the servants to take Rebo's horse to the stables.
Rebo dismounted and handed the reins to the servants, retrieving a small package from the saddlebag. He offered it to Fanny with a polite smile.
"My apologies for being late, Lady Lonna. Please accept this small gift as a token of my sincere apology."
"Please, don't call me Lady Lonna—just Fanny will do. Otherwise, I'll have to call you 'Mr. Haide' in retaliation," she said playfully as she unwrapped the gift.
Inside the gold wrapping paper was a bottle of fine red wine. It was housed in a beautiful glass bottle, through which the rich, rose-colored wine gleamed in the sunlight.
"Thank you, Rebo. Now we have the perfect drink for the evening. We had prepared some wine, but this bottle is far superior," Fanny said, her casual tone suggesting she already regarded Rebo as a close friend.
"Ah, my dear Rebo! You've finally arrived! The sudden storm had me worried you'd be delayed. I was about to postpone dinner, but I didn't want to keep the other guests waiting," came the cheerful voice of the baron as soon as Rebo entered the house.
"So this is the young diplomat you've been praising? Mind introducing him to us?" asked a middle-aged man standing nearby.
"He's just a boy! Looks like he's even younger than your daughter by a couple of years," grumbled a heavyset man sitting in the corner. His comment earned him a sharp look from the baroness, which quickly silenced him.
"That horse outside—it's a true thoroughbred, isn't it? I've seen less than ten such horses in my lifetime. The late Earl Meding had four purebloods, but after he fell from one and died, his stubborn sister had them all put down. If it were up to me, I'd have begged on my knees to save those horses. After they were slaughtered, I thought pureblood horses were lost to all of southern France, but today I've seen a pleasant surprise," rambled a tall, thin man with spectacles and streaks of brown in his thick auburn hair.
"A pureblood? I must take a look at it later," the portly man exclaimed eagerly.
The baron waved a hand. "Alright, alright, we can discuss horses later. Please, everyone, take your seats. Fanny, can you help with the seating arrangements? Once everyone's settled, I'll introduce you all properly."
Fanny left Rebo's side reluctantly, hurrying to the kitchen to instruct the servants on setting the table. Once everything was arranged, she rushed upstairs, clearly preparing for more guests who were likely waiting in another room.
Rebo, now alone, took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. The villa was modest, much like other estates in the region. The living room was furnished with a few sofas, their cushions thick and covered in wool—a cozy luxury in this region, where wool was abundant. A long dining table took up the center of the room, foldable to make more space when not in use.
The northern and southern walls were adorned with candleholders, already filled with unlit candles. Only the northern ones were lit, as the fading sunlight still provided some illumination. A fireplace on the eastern wall, well-stocked with firewood, was burning brightly, filling the room with warmth. The humid air from the recent rain had given way to a comfortable coziness, thanks to the fire.
A bronze chandelier hung from the ceiling, polished to a shine. Though its candles were yet unlit, the servants were already preparing long poles to light them. A small door in the eastern wall likely led to the kitchen, while a wooden staircase in the corner led to the second floor, which Rebo assumed housed the bedrooms.
As Rebo took in the details, a sudden noise from upstairs—footsteps on the creaky floorboards—interrupted his thoughts. Unlike the well-insulated Haide estate, where floors were reinforced with stone and steel, this house let every sound from above seep through to the room below.