Paper! Paperboy!

Inside, the estate was even grander: marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and enough expensive furniture to bankrupt St. Pete. Willem felt completely out of place and tried not to gawk as a butler led them through the halls.

"Lady Elizabeth," the butler intoned, bowing slightly, "your father awaits in the drawing room."

Elizabeth's confident demeanor faltered for just a moment, but she quickly recovered. "Thank you, Alastair."

Willem glanced at her. "You okay?"

She nodded, though her grip on her skirts tightened. "Just... don't say anything stupid."

"Define 'stupid,'" Willem whispered as they entered the drawing room.

Inside, a tall, imposing man stood by the fireplace, his silver hair gleaming in the light. His military uniform was immaculate, every medal polished to perfection. The Grand Collar Knight, Sir Edmund Bellmore turned to face them, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly.

"Father," Elizabeth said, curtsying.

"Elizabeth," he said curtly. "You're late."

"Traffic," she replied, her tone matching his.

Willem winced. He could feel the tension crackling in the air like a lightning storm.

"And who," Sir Edmund said, his gaze landing on Willem, "is this... boy?"

Willem froze. Elizabeth nudged him, and he quickly bowed, nearly losing his balance. "Willem Gilbur, uh, scribe to Lady Elizabeth, at your service, sir."

Sir Edmund's expression didn't change. "So this is the scribe? Interesting choice."

Willem tried to smile. "I'm full of surprises."

Elizabeth glared at him.

Sir Edmund's gaze lingered on Willem for a moment longer before he turned back to Elizabeth. "We'll discuss this later. For now, there's someone who wants to meet you."

"Oh, joy," Elizabeth muttered under her breath.

The door opened, and in strolled a young boy dressed in the finest silks, his golden hair perfectly coiffed. He exuded the kind of arrogance that made Willem want to punch him on principle.

"Ah, Elizabeth," the boy said, his voice dripping with charm. "It's been far too long."

"Cedric," Elizabeth said, her smile so forced it looked painful.

Cedric's gaze flicked to Willem, and his smile widened. "And who's this? A new... servant?"

Willem bristled. "Scribe," he said firmly. "And, uh, friend."

"Friend?" Cedric repeated, raising an eyebrow. He turned back to Elizabeth. "How quaint."

Willem leaned toward Elizabeth, whispering, "Who's this guy? your friend?"

"Cedric Weltherman," she whispered back, her tone sour. "Family friends. He's been trying to impress my father for years."

Cedric smirked, clearly hearing her. "Elizabeth, you wound me. I was simply hoping to catch up with my dear childhood companion."

"Uh-huh," Elizabeth said flatly.

Sir Edmund clapped his hands, his tone brisk. "Enough chatter. As you know, the banquet will begin shortly and dinner will be served. Elizabeth, Cedric—make yourselves presentable."

As they left the room, Willem muttered to Elizabeth, "So..Cedric, do I hate him now, or is there a form I fill out first?"

Elizabeth smirked. "Welcome to noble society, paperboy."