With the new day rising, he went along his normal routine—bathing, getting dressed, discussing trade with Frederick, seeing the labors of his workers. It was a busy morning, finally leading him to the chamber dedicated to the study of magecraft.
There he found the witch, as invested in her grimoires as always.
"Oh, good morning, Lord Schoeller. I wasn't expecting you this early," Beatrice greeted, looking up from her book.
Like a lax librarian, the darkly-dressed witch sat on a stool in front of the chalkboard, surrounded by a mess of books and concoctions sat on tables. While Beatrice was hired as a magic tutor, the truth was, she practically called the Schoeller Estate her home, staying there most days of the year.
"Morning," Leon returned, approaching as he stood in front of the desks.
There was no need to bring up his glass hand, as the witch's eyes immediately fixated on it. Beatrice rose from her stool without a word, stepping over as she forcibly grabbed his wrist.
