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Finding the kitchen was the top priority.

And it should have only taken two minutes to get there but due to some serious unforeseen morning fog, it took Harlow a full fifteen minutes of wandering the halls and staircases.

It should have been very apparent when Daggerroot gave her such a tour but perhaps she was more distracted than she thought.

Nevertheless, the whistle of a ready tea kettle drew her in the right direction, and she found Spellsaven Daggerroot occupied with steeping a tea bag in a rather oversized and chipped violet teacup.

The steam from the freshly poured water fogged the lenses of the half-moon spectacles they were wearing.

“Good morning, Spellsaven.”

Harlow shot them a wide smile.

It was time to turn on the charm.

Friends tell friends secrets, and she desperately needed that vault location, or hell, any information about this relic at all.

The Guildmaster was quite tight-lipped, and Harlow still didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know what this relic was exactly or if it was part of the challenge for her to locate it.

Either way, forming a friendship would be the easiest route. And one she found herself wanting to accomplish anyway.

There was a flash of a grimace upon their face before they turned, glasses still fogged.

“Good morning, Spellsaven Apprentice Hedgewater.

I understand formality might be difficult to break but if you could be so kind as to just call me Atlas.

It would be much less confusing in the long term when establishing which Daggerroot you’re talking to.”

Confusion knitted her brows together and Harlow looked around the empty-save-for-them room. “Other Daggerroots?”

“Yes, yes. The House and I.”

Atlas took a sip, winced at what seemed to be still way too hot water, and set the teacup back on its saucer with a klink.

“…Why would I be talking to the house…”

It was more a question for herself but she had said it aloud and the Spellsaven… no, Atlas, recoiled in a bit of offense. “…before lunch…”

She was grasping at straws but it was what popped in her head at the moment.

“Ahhh, yes.”

Atlas chuckled. “Yes, that’s true, hahah.”

As quickly as it came, Atlas’s demeanor grew serious and they narrowed their eyes, “Before lunch would be a mistake.”

The seriousness slipped so quickly away that Harlow felt she had some sort of social whiplash. However, appeased, Atlas returned to the kettle and began to refill it at the overly large porcelain double sink.

Harlow tried to shake the confusion that must be written across her face and began to check the cupboards for any makings of breakfast.

She hadn’t eaten since the night before when there was a quick knock and an awaiting tray of salad, carrots, and other snack-like items was left outside her door.

Atlas must have run quickly away to give her privacy.

The cupboards and the upright icebox were more of the same. Leafy greens, various forms of potatoes, mushrooms galore, and somehow unsurprisingly, a lack of spices.

She slowly closed the door with a sigh. She could kill for some sweet sausage, a fried egg, and some rice. Her craving must have been internally felt because her stomach echoed her disappointment with a low growl.

“Oh my, quite the hunger pain, hmm? Would you like me to get something together for you? When we go into town later, I’ll introduce you to Buttons so you can place your preference for provisions.”

Atlas had backed up against the counter and was blowing lightly on the surface of their tea.

“That sounds lovely. Any chance you can point me in the direction of any breakfast meats?”

“Oh, well. I wish I could. But there is none here.”

“I didn’t realize you were vegetarian. I’m sorry, I’ll make sure not to introduce any animal products then…”

“Nah, go ahead. I am a vegetarian, but it’s not because of that.”

“Why then?”

“Because I hate plants.”

“You hate plants?”

“Absolutely. They’re cunning and ruthless and they think so little of everyone else.”

Atlas’s tone was serious, and Harlow waited an unnaturally long time to see if Atlas would break into laughter or admit it was a joke. Only crickets. So, not a joke then.

Harlow nodded slowly with wide-open eyes before turning to the icebox. She selected a few greens and made yet another salad.

“Am I allowed to know where we are going today?”

Harlow teased.

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed such information? Are you used to others holding things back from you?”

Atlas took a crooked sip from their teacup.

It was abrupt, came out of nowhere, and totally accurate.

Harlow did not like it.

How could they determine such a thing about her having met only less than a day ago? Perhaps Harlow was letting her face do the talking again.

She was a professional, damn it.

Even this inner turmoil must have been on display, for Atlas continued, “We’re going to Saddlewood to meet with the people we will be working with over the next few months.

It’s also where I have a standing order for provisions, so anything you need or want, you’ll have to order it from there.”

Harlow nodded since a mouth full of lettuce would be unbecoming to talk around.

Finally, at least something she expected.

Spellsavens were wizards for the people; their services were always highly regarded and no trade was needed.

The catch was that Spellsavens were usually so busy with other tasks for society that the average person had difficulty getting to them in a reasonable amount of time.

However, Spellsavens regularly sent out their apprentices to do appearances and social tasks.

They wouldn’t let their apprentices go solo for a few years though, so if anyone wanted anything from a Spellsaven, the time they got a new apprentice was the best time to query.

For Harlow, it would be busy work.

However, she’d be able to watch Atlas and their spellcasting closely.

Perhaps they had a tell or a certain way they cast spells that made their casting unique.

If she could figure that out, then it stood to reason she could work backward and then perhaps reverse cast any spells protecting the vault.

Atlas whisked themself off to pack for the visit to town and Harlow decided tea actually did sound perfect.

There was an early morning chill that lasted longer out here closer to the woods than it did along the coast this season and some spiced tea was subtly calling her name.

She pulled the stained-glass kettle from its resting place back upon the burner and after reading the simple fire rune etched onto the stove, she dragged her finger over it to activate.

Nothing.

She pulled a ribbon from her pocket and tied her hair back so she could get a better look at the rune.

She could have sworn she’d seen Atlas use the same burner.

From a closer inspection, there was no reason why it shouldn’t work.

The ruin was perfectly drawn and had no specifics such as identity to activate it.

It was a rune that was found in just about every household. Bizarre.

Harlow took a deep breath to release her frustration and shook her head in annoyance.

She’d have to keep her own list of things she’d have to fix around the manor.

For now, she reached into one of the enchanted pockets and withdrew a clove of petrified black garlic.

With a murmur, a small flame came from her fingertip and straight to the stovewick, lighting it.

Not one to trust something that didn’t make logical sense, Harlow leaned back against the large kitchen island to keep an eye on the flame.

Nothing was going to get past her.