The afternoon was far too peaceful for the number of problems still existing inside that mansion. Damon was sitting in one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor, near the open doors leading to the garden, with a folded blanket over his legs more because of Ester’s insistence than any real necessity. He could already walk, train, and cultivate for short periods, but there were still clear limits. Limits that, according to Ester, he seemed determined to ignore only to prove he was still the same functional idiot as before.

Elizabeth occupied an armchair near the low table, holding a cup of tea that had probably gone cold some time ago. Aria was sprawled on a side sofa with an expression far too comfortable for someone surrounded by financial reports, and Ester remained standing near the window, arms crossed, pretending she was not monitoring every breath Damon took. Since he had awakened, she had developed the irritating ability to look disinterested while observing absolutely everything.

Damon moved the fingers of his right hand, feeling the cold withdraw beneath his skin before it could escape to the arm of the chair. His control was improving, but it still required attention. When he relaxed too much, the air around him grew cold, cups sweated frost, and anyone near him began casting accusatory looks. Aria had declared the day before that talking to him now was like talking to a beautiful, emotionally problematic winter.

He looked at Elizabeth. "How is Mirath currently?"

Elizabeth raised her eyes from the cup. The question did not seem to surprise her, but there was a small pause before the answer, as if she were deciding how much to explain without turning that conversation into another crisis meeting. "Stable, for now. I left a loyal friend managing the main matters while I am here in Arven."

Damon nodded slowly. "A loyal friend?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean someone trustworthy or someone frightening enough that no one tries anything?"

Elizabeth took a small sip of tea before answering. "Both."

Aria raised a finger from the sofa. "The best category of friend."

Ester let out a low sound. "The category that usually causes fewer disaster reports."

Elizabeth ignored them both with the ease of someone already used to it. "She knows Mirath, knows my priorities, and knows exactly which matters can wait for my return and which need to be crushed before they grow. I do not like being away for this long, but the situation here required my presence."

Damon observed her expression and noticed what was not being said. Elizabeth was not the type to abandon a position of power without calculating risks. If she had been in Arven this long, it was because she considered the situation here more explosive than any administrative problem in Mirath. That said a lot about the true state of Morgana’s house.

He took a deep breath and leaned back more comfortably. "Then tell me something. What can I do now?"

Ester immediately turned her face toward him.

Damon raised a hand before she could begin. "Before you threaten to tie my ankles to the bed, I am not talking about running off to fight someone. I am asking in general. I do not want to only rest, train Qi control, and freeze innocent plants in the garden."

"A plant is not innocent just because it does not speak," Aria commented.

Damon pointed at her. "Thank you. Finally, someone understands my struggle against the shrub."

Ester closed her eyes for a second. "I am going to pretend this conversation is not happening."

Elizabeth placed the cup on the table and crossed her legs calmly. "There is not much you can do at this moment. At least nothing that will not leave Ester on the verge of committing a medical crime."

"I am already on the verge," Ester said.

"See?" Elizabeth continued, without losing her tone. "At most, you could accompany Morgana on a few visits to negotiate the messes her stepmother left behind."

Damon became more attentive immediately. "Visits?"

"Creditors, smaller houses, trade representatives, local nobles, land administrators, people who signed agreements with the former Duchess or were used by her. Morgana is trying to separate who was an accomplice, who was a victim, who is bluffing, and who is simply taking advantage of the crisis to squeeze more money out of Arven."

Aria grimaced. "There are a lot of people in the last category."

"A lot," Elizabeth confirmed.

Damon ran his tongue over his teeth, thoughtful. "And would me accompanying her help?"

Elizabeth did not answer immediately.

That was enough of an answer for him to realize there was more there.

"Elizabeth."

She sighed. "It has been difficult to obtain cooperation."

"Why?"

"Because Morgana took over very recently, Arven is weakened, Albert is still recovering, and half the neighbors think they can pressure her until she accepts any renegotiation. The other half is afraid of being accused of collaborating with the Duchess and is trying to destroy evidence before it reaches us."

Damon was silent for a few seconds.

The room was too.

Ester slowly uncrossed her arms, as if she already knew where the conversation was going and did not like it at all. Aria, on the other hand, seemed divided between concern and the morbid curiosity of someone who wanted to see what would happen when Damon was placed inside a room with opportunistic nobles.

Damon looked at Elizabeth with an expression far too neutral. "Is this a ’please kill anyone who refuses to cooperate’?"

Elizabeth shrugged.

The gesture was small.

Very elegant.

Almost innocent.

"There are people who can only be persuaded through force."

Ester turned completely. "No."

Damon pointed at Elizabeth without taking his eyes off her. "You heard her. She asked."

"She did not ask," Ester said. "She irresponsibly implied it."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "I did not tell him to kill anyone."

"You said it in other words."

"I said some people understand force."

"That is almost the same thing when you are talking to Damon."

Damon placed a hand over his chest, pretending offense. "You all talk as if I am incapable of diplomacy."

The three women looked at him.

At the same time.

The silence lasted longer than it should have.

Aria was the first to break it. "Do you want the honest answer or the answer that preserves your self-esteem?"

"I already regret asking."

Elizabeth rested her elbow on the arm of the chair. "You know how to be diplomatic when you want to. The problem is that your definition of diplomacy usually includes frightening the person enough that they find agreement reasonable."

"That is efficient."

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "That is the problem."

Damon could not completely disagree. In his defense, many negotiations improved when the other side remembered that consequences existed. The problem was that, now, he could not simply enter a room and release pressure until someone signed something. Not for lack of will. For lack of control. If he lost his temper, he might freeze the table, the documents, the glasses, and the accountant from the neighboring duchy. That would probably harm Morgana’s political image.

Probably.

Ester approached the table. "He is not going to threaten nobles while he is still learning not to turn cups of water into blocks of ice."

"I can control it better now."

"Yesterday you froze the bathroom doorknob."

"It was loose."

"You froze a doorknob because it was loose?"

"It was an emotional reaction."

Aria buried her face in a cushion to muffle her laughter.

Elizabeth ran two fingers over her forehead, though her mouth almost smiled. "Perhaps it is better if we begin with something simpler than politically threatening neighboring houses."

Damon tilted his head. "Such as?"

"Presence."

"That is not something you do. That is just being somewhere."

"Exactly."

He frowned, suspicious.

Elizabeth continued calmly. "Your recovery is already becoming a rumor. Some people know you were on the verge of death. Others thought you died and that we were hiding it to preserve internal morale. If you appear alive beside Morgana, even without saying much, that changes the perception."

Aria sat up properly on the sofa. "Like a white-haired political ghost."

Damon looked at her. "I would prefer a less funerary description."

"Frozen miracle?"

"Not that either."

"Diplomatic weapon with legs?"

Ester pointed at Aria. "That one is more accurate."

Elizabeth nodded, ignoring Damon’s expression. "Your simple presence reminds everyone that Arven is not isolated. Morgana has allies. Dangerous allies. Allies who survived the Duchess, a criminal network, and six months of impossible coma."

"So you want me to sit beside her looking threatening."

"Initially, yes."

"That I can do."

Ester raised a hand. "Not for many hours."

"For a few?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On you not being you."

"That seems like an unfair condition."

"It is the only one we have."

Damon looked at Elizabeth again. "And if someone tries to pressure Morgana in front of me?"

Elizabeth smiled faintly.

This time, there was no gentleness in the smile.

"Then you breathe slowly, look at the person, and let them imagine for themselves what would happen if they continued."

Damon considered that for a few seconds. "So no killing."

"No killing without necessity."

Ester slammed her hand on the table. "Elizabeth."

"I am being realistic."

"You are being a terrible influence."

"I am being useful."

Aria raised her hand. "I vote useful, but with supervision."

Ester looked at her. "You do not get a vote after suggesting he should enter a meeting with a white cloak and fake snow."

"That was image-building."

"That was theater."

"Politics is theater with accounting."

Elizabeth pointed at Aria with her cup. "Unfortunately, she is not wrong."

Damon listened to all of it with a discreet smile. The room had grown lighter, but the issue behind the conversation remained serious. Morgana was being pressured. Arven was vulnerable. And the people around them were already beginning to measure how far they could go. He knew that type. Knew how they worked. If a noble house sensed weakness, it called it negotiation. If it met resistance, it called it insult. If it suffered consequences, it called it injustice.

"I can do that," he said at last. "Accompany Morgana. Sit still. Look threatening. Not freeze anyone without authorization."

Ester crossed her arms. "Authorization from whom?"

"You?"

"Correct answer."

Elizabeth tilted her head. "And Morgana."

Damon nodded. "And Morgana."

Aria smiled. "And maybe me, if it is something funny."

"No," Ester and Elizabeth said at the same time.

Aria sighed. "You two suffocate my creativity."

Damon took a deep breath and looked toward the open garden doors. The control of the cold beneath his skin was still unstable, but better than it had been weeks ago. Maybe sitting in a negotiation room was not exactly the kind of action his restlessness wanted. It was not a clear battle, not an enemy with a sword, not something he could solve with direct force. But maybe that was exactly what he needed to learn.

Not every fight required raising the blade.

Sometimes it was enough to be present in the right place.

And let others remember why it was dangerous to mistake exhaustion for weakness.

"When is the next visit?" he asked.

Elizabeth answered without hesitation. "Tomorrow morning. Representatives from the Duchy of Verden. They want to renegotiate a debt that has already been paid twice, according to the records Aria found."

Aria raised her finger proudly. "I found it because one of their accountants was stupid enough to use the same abbreviation in three different books."

Damon looked at Elizabeth. "Do they know you discovered it?"

"Not yet."

"And Morgana is going to confront them tomorrow?"

"She is."

Damon smiled slowly.

Ester immediately pointed at him. "That smile is forbidden."

"I did not do anything."

"Yet."

Elizabeth stood, picking up the cup again. "You will only watch. Maybe say one or two sentences, if Morgana allows it."

"What kind of sentence?"

"Something short."

"Like?"

Elizabeth thought for an instant.

Then said, with absolute calm, "Perhaps: ’Are you sure you want to maintain that version?’"

Aria placed a hand over her chest. "Wow. That was beautiful."

Damon mentally repeated the phrase and nodded, satisfied. "I liked it."

Ester looked at Elizabeth with an expression of profound accusation. "You are teaching him."

"I am refining him."

"You are making him worse."

"Depends on the point of view."

Damon leaned back in the chair, feeling the cold calm a little beneath his skin. For the first time in weeks, the idea of leaving the mansion did not feel only like recklessness. It felt like a function. A small, controlled, perhaps useful role. He still could not solve everything, and he probably should not try. But he could stand beside Morgana when someone tried to take from her more than Arven could pay.

And, if Elizabeth was right, perhaps some people really only needed a good reminder.

Not all strength needed to be used.

Some only needed to be noticed.