Soon enough the train had pulled into the station, and Natalie aeam stepped off into Tarenhelm.

  Tarenhelm was a small city, tiny pared to Aradon, though it was still many, many times the size of Natalie's hometown, which might not even show up on all maps. Natalie mused at how much her standards had adjusted after living in a pce like the capital of Valhaur. The bustle of the receiving station was nearly pcid in parison to Aradon.

  A guide greeted them as they stepped off the train, a short, distinguished-appearing man with brown hair. His eyes flicked across Natalie's group before nding, and stig, on Liz. Immediately, the man began to ingratiate himself with her. He spared a few perfunctory attempts to introduce himself to Natalie and the others, but it was clear his attention rimarily, if not wholly, focused on Liz.

  For a few moments, Natalie erplexed by the man's behavior. How quickly he had started trying to endear himself to Liz. Why he was treating her like … well, royalty.

  Of course, that thought cleared things up.

  Because Liz was royalty.

  Despite just a few ho having pyed into that in a very lewd way, Natalie had almost fotten. Most people at Tereated Liz fairly normally. Not just because they were around her every day, but also because Te in general was crawling with nobility. But out here? In an unimportant town several hours from Aradon? The name 'Beaumon' came as much more of a shock.

  It was weird to be textually reminded of Liz's status. Of her pt in the most important family in Valhaur. Someone only slightly removed from the King himself.

  Natalie had bee friends with a girl from the actual royal family.

  Weird.

  And she'd also had her cock shoved dowhroat like three ho.

  Really … what had her life bee?

  Liz was clearly embarrassed by the way the guide—Tristan, a servant of Tarenhelm's Baron—focused his attention on her. Not so much because she seemed unaced to it, but rather, by the way she shot flustered g Natalie, Jordan, Sofia, and Ana, because it was the first time the differen their statuses had e so obviously into py. While Tristan erfectly cordial with the rest of them, he clearly assumed Liz was the leader of the group, and his questio entirely directed toward her.

  For the most part, Natalie was simply amused by the show. Besides, someone in the group did have to take the lead, and while in a bat sario that might be Natalie because of the nature of her role, a quest was a different matter. Or any social situation. Liz certainly had the qualifications and experieo be their leader in that regard. Natalie, Sofia, and Jordan were all semi-disqualified thanks to their humble, and thus ignorant, beginnings, and Ana wouldn't be a great fit because—well, because nobody would call her the best people person.

  A carriage ride took them to the Baron's manor at the ter of Tarenhelm, Tristan chattering along with pleasant small talk the entire way through. The five of them would apparently be receiving their mission briefing from the Baron himself. Natalie wondered if all Teeams would have received equally respectful treatment, or if it was because they had a member with the surname Beaumon.

  Natalie ke in general anded respect, but really? The Baron himself? Why was the leader of the city briefing them? While any send-for-help that Te assigo their students would be of some importa was only a level-two quest. Not something that threatehe city, or was even more than 'slightly troublesome'—at least oy-ma scale.

  Yet, heless the Baron himself would be discussing the details with them. Liz's presence had to be responsible for that. Being allied with a member of the royal family might e with more baggage than Natalie had assumed. Not that something so minor as Liz receiving preferential treatment was really 'baggage,' but again, she had almost fotten about Liz's p the world. Natalie just thought of her as … her friend. Not 'the Beaumon.'

  Ferried into the enormous three-story manor—small city or not, barons of Valhaur were wealthy—Natalie aeam were deposited in a luxurious sitting room, plush couches and armchairs arranged in a semi-circle fag the entrance. Ohey had gotteled, a servant brought in a tray of refreshments. Pastries, tea, coffee, and so on, which each of them indulged in some sele of.

  As she sipped the rich, bitter liquid and waited for the Baron to arrive, her eyes roamed the sitting room, admiring the opulent decor. Crimso curtains framed the windows, intricate tapestries hung from the walls, and a rge firepinated one end of the room. Natalie had once while taking in the manor's exterior, but again, she wondered just how wealthy this man was.

  The thought stemmed from a particur pce, the same that had been dominating her mind the whole way over. Liz. The dark-haired royal sat with perfect posture and a ramrod-straight back, sipping at her tea. Natalie couldn't put her finger on why, but the image stood out starkly pared to Jordan, Ana, and even Sofia, who seemed to be trying her best, but failing, to seem simirly posed.

  What had Liz's upbringing been like, anyway? She came from wealth and privilege far outstripping this Baron's. pared to her father's estate—who was the brother of the King—this three-story manor with pretty decorations had to be, altry? Unimpressive? Had she even taken note of it?

  Eventually, their host arrived. Baron Edric Crestwood was an aging, portly man with ruddy cheeks who waddled as much as walked. His fine manner of dress only slightly improved his image. Ae seeming winded from having e to greet them, his words were loud and clear—a natural orator, as most members of the aristocracy were. At least the ones ruling over cities.

  "Ah, huests from Te, let me offer you an effusive wele," he said, his eyes, unsurprisingly, politely meeting Natalie's and the rest, before definitively settling on Liz.

  The Baron was apanied by two others: a man and a woman. The man was older, with a beard speckled with gray, and not nearly as well dressed as his pany. By the bow slung over his bad his simple tuniatalie could infer he wasn't a member of the Baroe. Some relevant guest to the mission. The woman was of the opposite image: dressed in a geous, flowing blue dress that had to have cost a fortune. She was much youhaher two, in her early twe most—probably around Natalie aeam's age.

  Liz, haviaking the lead sihe train statio aside her tea and rose gracefully from her seat. "Thank you for receiving us, Lord Baron. We're honored by your personal audience."

  The words were so formal they felt nearly jarring, ing from Liz. But this was an official fun of sorts—or at least that was how Liz was treating it. As maybe she should. This was a Baron, not some random associate of the local garrison giving them a briefing o moroubles.

  And Natalie would admit it tio be as amusing as it was jarring. The Baron seemed immediately flustered by Liz's words.

  "Think nothing of it, Lady Beaumon. For one of your lineage, much less ing to our defe's the least I could do. Please, have a seat."

  Liz politely did so.

  "I won't take any more of your time than I o," the Baron said. "You are here on business. Let's dispense of the frivolities araight into it." He worriedly checked with Liz to see if that was fihe royal nodded in approval. "Excellent," he said, emboldened. "So. This is the gist."