The next morning began with a question.

A terrible question.

The kind that immediately ruined breakfast.

Seraphina placed both elbows on the table and stared directly at Rowan.

"If you were cursed into becoming furniture, what furniture would you become?"

Rowan slowly lowered his cup.

Daren looked delighted.

Kael looked tired.

Atlas looked hungry.

Tax looked judgmental.

"What."

"A chair?"

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Interesting."

"No."

"Table?"

"No."

"Decorative shelf?"

"No."

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why?"

"Character assessment."

"That is not character assessment."

She wrote something in a notebook anyway.

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Then she turned.

"Daren."

The man immediately pointed at Atlas. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"He started it."

"I haven’t asked anything."

"You never need to."

Fair.

Unfortunately.

She tapped the notebook.

"Rank bread."

Silence.

Daren blinked.

"Rank... bread?"

"Yes."

"All bread?"

"Obviously."

A serious discussion somehow followed.

Nobody knew how.

Or why.

Ten minutes later Daren was passionately defending garlic bread while Atlas attempted to eat the evidence.

Tax sided with croissants.

A controversial position.

The crow defended it aggressively.

The inn door opened.

Kael entered.

He carried several folded papers.

And looked annoyed.

A dangerous sign.

Because Kael only looked annoyed when somebody had wasted his time.

Or when he’d learned something important.

Usually both.

The papers landed on the table.

Immediately ending the bread debate.

A tragedy.

"What happened?"

Rowan asked.

Kael sat down.

"The route exists."

Nobody spoke.

Not because they didn’t understand.

Because they did.

Immediately.

Rowan straightened.

Daren stopped eating.

Even Seraphina stopped writing.

An achievement.

"The route connected to Golden Nest?"

Kael nodded.

"I found old merchant records."

He slid one of the papers across the table.

"The route disappeared about thirty years ago."

Daren frowned.

"War?"

"No."

"Monsters?"

"No."

"Taxes?"

"A terrifying possibility, but no."

That earned a snort from Seraphina.

Kael continued.

"The records stop suddenly."

Rowan immediately noticed the problem.

Merchant records didn’t stop.

Not normally.

Merchants documented everything.

Profits.

Losses.

Arguments.

Petty grudges.

Everything.

"Someone removed them."

Kael nodded.

"That’s my guess."

The room grew quieter.

Because that wasn’t natural.

Someone had gone out of their way to erase information.

Again.

Just like Valemont.

Just like the symbol.

Just like every other headache they’d encountered recently.

Seraphina looked between Rowan and Daren.

Then at the papers.

Then back at Rowan.

Then back at Daren.

A terrible sequence.

Kael recognized it instantly.

"No."

"I haven’t said anything."

"No."

The smile appeared.

Everyone suffered.

"My apprentices require field experience."

Rowan closed his eyes.

"There it is."

Daren pointed at himself.

"I am not your apprentice."

"You ranked bread for ten minutes."

"That is unrelated."

"It demonstrates commitment."

The notebook appeared again.

Daren immediately regretted existing.

The discussion somehow lasted another hour.

Nobody won.

Especially not Kael.

Eventually Rowan leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Fine."

Silence.

Seraphina froze.

The room froze.

Atlas looked up.

Tax nearly dropped a button.

Even Kael paused.

Rowan noticed immediately.

"Why is everyone staring?"

Because Rowan never said "fine."

He usually said things like:

«This is a bad idea.»

Or:

«Absolutely not.»

Or:

«Please stop.»

The word "fine" was dangerous.

"What do you mean fine?"

Seraphina asked.

Rowan looked toward the papers.

Toward the route.

Toward the mystery.

Then shrugged.

"I was going to investigate anyway."

A pause.

Then:

"It’ll be easier with help."

Daren looked horrified.

"You surrendered."

"I adapted."

"Same thing."

"No."

"Yes."

The argument started immediately.

Healthy.

Normal.

Comforting.

Several hours later—

The group found themselves gathered around a map.

A real map.

Not one of Seraphina’s notebook drawings.

Those usually contained dragons.

And once a chicken.

Nobody knew why.

Kael pointed toward a marked location.

"This is where the route was last recorded."

Rowan studied it.

Daren studied it.

Seraphina studied it upside down.

Nobody corrected her.

Experience.

Then Rowan frowned.

"That’s close."

"To what?"

Daren asked.

Rowan tapped another point.

The room followed his finger.

Slowly.

Then collectively became annoyed.

Because the location sat uncomfortably close to territory connected to House Valemont.

Not directly.

Just close enough to be irritating.

The mystery had once again found them.

Without invitation.

Rude.

Very rude.

Seraphina stared at the map.

Then pointed.

Then looked at Rowan.

Then at Daren.

Then dramatically stood up.

The chair survived.

Barely.

"Excellent."

Nobody liked that tone.

"Why."

Kael asked.

She spread her arms.

The universal sign of incoming nonsense.

"If my apprentices are chasing dangerous mysteries..."

A pause.

Then:

"I shall bravely supervise."

"You mean interfere."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Daren pointed.

"See?"

Kael nodded.

"I see."

Rowan looked toward the ceiling.

Asking for patience.

The ceiling declined.

By sunset—

The decision had been made.

Not tomorrow.

Not eventually.

Not after another fashion competition.

Soon.

Very soon.

The Fashion District would still exist when they returned.

The customers would survive.

The business would survive.

The mystery, however, had finally produced an actual trail.

And trails had a bad habit of disappearing.

Nobody wanted to lose this one.

Especially Rowan.

Especially Kael.

And although she refused to admit it—

Especially Seraphina.

Because she had spent days pretending she wasn’t interested.

A performance.

A decent one.

Unfortunately.

Everyone knew her too well.

The problem with making a decision was simple.

Eventually—

You had to prepare.

Which sounded easy.

Until Seraphina became involved.

The inn’s common room had transformed into a war room.

A terrible war room.

A deeply unprofessional war room.

Atlas occupied half the floor.

Tax occupied the map.

Nobody knew how.

The crow had somehow positioned himself directly on top of the most important section.

Every time Kael moved him—

Tax returned.

A tactical genius.

A criminal.

Potentially both.

"Move."

Tax looked at Kael.

Then deliberately sat down harder.

The crow had chosen violence.

Daren laughed.

"He’s winning."

"No."

"He’s absolutely winning."

"No."

The argument continued for several minutes.

Tax remained undefeated.

Meanwhile—

Seraphina had obtained a notebook.

A very dangerous development.

Because every page contained something different.

One page contained route calculations.

One contained apprentice rankings.

One contained a drawing of Rowan looking disappointed.

Another contained a drawing of Daren fighting bread.

Nobody asked.

Experience.

Rowan eventually noticed.

"Why am I ranked second?"

Silence.

Everyone looked up.

A terrible question.

A truly terrible question.

Seraphina glanced at the notebook.

Then at Rowan.

Then at Daren.

Then back at Rowan.

"Attitude."

Daren immediately celebrated.

The man looked genuinely proud.

"YES."

"This system is flawed."

"It is a perfect system."

"No."

"Skill issue."

Rowan regretted speaking.

Several merchants entered the inn.

Then left.

Then entered again.

Confused.

Because the famous designer they’d been looking for was currently arguing about apprentice rankings.

Not designing.

Not networking.

Not being successful.

Arguing.

The illusion of professionalism suffered greatly.

Kael eventually recovered the map.

A victory decades in the making.

He spread it across the table again.

Immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

Even Seraphina.

Which was rare.

The route wasn’t large.

That was the strange part.

Golden Nest sounded important.

Valemont sounded important.

The symbol felt important.

Yet the route itself seemed ordinary.

Almost disappointingly ordinary.

A merchant road.

A forgotten checkpoint.

A storage site.

Nothing extraordinary.

Which made it worse.

Because important secrets rarely hid in obvious places.

They hid in places nobody questioned.

Daren tapped the map.

"What if it’s nothing?"

Reasonable.

Very reasonable.

Nobody answered immediately.

Then Rowan did.

"Then we lose a few days."

A pause.

His finger moved slightly.

"What if it isn’t?"

The room became quiet.

Not dramatic.

Not tense.

Just thoughtful.

Because that was the real problem.

What if it wasn’t?

Kael had spent weeks collecting fragments.

The token.

The merchants.

The erased route.

The reactions.

The hesitation.

The fear.

Every clue pointed somewhere.

Not clearly.

But consistently.

And that consistency bothered him.

Seraphina suddenly stood.

Again.

A dangerous habit.

"Question."

Nobody liked that opening.

"If a mysterious organization erased a road..."

She pointed dramatically.

"...would they appreciate a strongly worded letter?"

Daren nearly fell out of his chair.

"No."

Kael answered instantly.

"A mildly threatening letter?"

"No."

"A politely threatening letter?"

"No."

"A villainess newsletter?"

"Absolutely not."

She looked genuinely disappointed.

Which somehow made the idea more concerning.

The discussion continued long into the evening.

Routes.

Travel supplies.

Potential dangers.

Potential rewards.

Potential disasters.

Mostly disasters.

Atlas eventually fell asleep.

Half on the map.

Half off the map.

A compromise.

Tax climbed onto Seraphina’s shoulder.

The crow looked unusually calm.

Not plotting.

Not stealing.

Just sitting there.

A suspicious level of peace.

For a moment—

Nobody spoke.

The inn felt different.

Not because of fashion.

Not because of customers.

Not because of fame.

Because the group had changed.

Without noticing.

Several weeks ago—

They were travelers.

Temporary companions.

People sharing a road.

Now?

Daren was arguing with Seraphina like it was normal.

Rowan knew exactly when Kael was annoyed.

Atlas slept wherever he wanted.

Tax committed crimes under community supervision.

And somehow—

Nobody questioned any of it anymore.

The realization arrived quietly.

Then disappeared.

Leaving only comfort behind.

Naturally—

Seraphina ruined the moment.

She suddenly pointed at Rowan.

"If I save your uncle."

Silence.

Rowan narrowed his eyes.

Danger.

Danger everywhere.

"What."

"You become Apprentice Number One."

Daren immediately objected.

"CORRUPTION."

"It is merit-based."

"THAT IS NOT MERIT."

"It absolutely is."

The argument restarted.

Violently.

Passionately.

Completely unnecessarily.

And for the first time in days—

Rowan laughed.

Not politely.

Not quietly.

Actually laughed.

The sound surprised everyone.

Including him.

The room paused.

Only briefly.

Then Daren pointed dramatically.

"HE’S EVOLVING."

Rowan threw a piece of bread at him.

Daren caught it.

Then ate it.

A horrifying display.

The night continued.

The route remained on the table.

The decision remained made.

Tomorrow would be preparation.

After that—

They’d finally leave the city.

Not because fashion was over.

Not because the dream had ended.

Because another road had finally opened.

And this time—

Nobody intended to ignore it.