A storm raged as Litz opened the grand doors, eyes narrowing at the cloaked stranger.
"State your business before I turn you to ash."
The man smirked, rain dripping from his dark hair. "I heard the great Archmage needs a butler."
"You expect me to believe a common servant wandered here?"
"Would you believe a runaway prince instead?"
Years later, as Kiernan silently poured tea, Litz frowned.
"You’re quiet. Where's the usual chatterbox gone?"
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