Cass arrived at Ainsworth House in the Jaguar, British Racing Green glinting beneath a pale sky. The townhouse stood on a quiet Mayfair street, stone calm and iron railings precise in their symmetry.
A uniformed footman opened the door before Cass reached the steps, which pleased him. It meant the household had been briefed and had chosen to take him seriously.
Inside, soft carpets muted footsteps. Paintings hung in ordered rows, ancestors staring down with practised gravitas, landscapes chosen to imply permanence without ever needing to declare it.
'Old rooms love old stories. I brought a new one.'
A butler guided him to a salon that smelled faintly of citrus polish and old books. Lord Ainsworth rose from a club chair, silver hair neat, posture still military straight. His suit was cut in a way that assumed you already knew its worth.
Next to him sat a woman with the same steady eyes and a smile that held its control like a blade.
"Mr Vale," Ainsworth said. "Thank you for coming."
"Thank you for the invitation," Cass replied.
The woman stood with unhurried grace.
"My daughter. Lady Charlotte Ainsworth," the old man said.
"Charlotte is fine," she corrected. "Mr Vale, you caused a small earthquake last week."
"Then the foundations needed testing," Cass said.
Her head tilted slightly, as if acknowledging a point in debate.
They sat. A footman poured tea in silence. Cass didn't touch the sugar or the milk. He only let the cup warm his fingers while the room weighed him in silence.
"Your gala," Ainsworth said. "It was well received."
"It was useful," Cass said.
"Useful to whom?" the lord asked.
"To everyone who understood what it was."
"And what was it?" Charlotte asked.
"A declaration."
Ainsworth considered him for a moment. "You wish to be seen as a gentleman."
"I am a gentleman," Cass replied. "I also intend to be unavoidable."
Charlotte's smile grew a shade sharper.
"Mr Vale," Ainsworth said, folding his hands. "There are ways one moves here, and ways one does not."
"Indeed, but I plan to move effectively," Cass said.
Silence stretched, not hostile, only testing. Cass didn't break it. He let it breathe until Ainsworth's eyes narrowed with approval he would never name aloud.
"Tell me about Deansgate," the lord said at last.
Cass gave him numbers and vision without flourish. The patterns of footfall. The way sunlight would cut the courtyard at four in the afternoon. The tenant mix that made a street hum. How heritage could be honoured without leaving money on the table. He watched Charlotte's expression shift as he spoke. She enjoyed competence. She respected control.
"Very well," Ainsworth said when he finished. "We have holdings along the ring road. Permissions linger. They require persuasion."
"You want a cleaner reputation than contractors can provide," Cass said.
"We want results without any unwanted noise," Charlotte added.
"That I can do," Cass said. "But not for introductions. For outcomes only."
The old man nodded once.
"You might be of use to us, Mr Vale."
"And you to me," Cass said.
They regarded each other through the steam of the tea. Ainsworth finally set his cup down with a soft click.
"You will attend our charity supper next month," he said. "Not as spectacle. As a participant."
"I will," Cass said.
Charlotte rose. She handed him a small card embossed with the family crest. He examined it for a single heartbeat before tucking it away.
"I look forward to what you do with a quiet room," she said.
"I prefer quiet rooms," Cass replied. "Everyone can hear better."
Approval flickered sharply in Ainsworth's eyes. He rose. The butler appeared as if conjured, guiding Cass back through the corridors. At the door, Cass paused long enough to look once at the portraits again. The faces were well-fed by history. He walked out without slowing his stride.
[Quest Complete: Audience with Nobility]
[Reward: Reputation +2 (Old Families). Passive: Noble Bearing Lv.1 — +5% influence in aristocratic settings.]
He didn't check his phone until he slid into the Jaguar. Seven messages waited. Harrington. Cole. The editor. A councillor. And Rowena, with a line that made him smile.
Rowena: Piano tonight. New piece. Bring something wicked.
'Always do.'
The Jaguar rolled away from the kerb. London looked different when you carried keys to the right doors.
The rehearsal hall glowed with light. Rowena stood at the piano in a dress the colour of red wine, sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows. She didn't feign surprise when Cass entered. She only shifted on the bench to make space.
"You met the lord," she said.
"I met a man who likes control," Cass replied. "And a daughter who likes the people who can take it from him without spilling tea."
"You approve of her," Rowena said.
"I... recognise her," Cass said.
He set his hands on the keys. She counted them in.
The piece moved like a conversation that already knew its ending. She carried the melody, sharp and clean. He built the room around it, deliberate and steady. Their lines circled, tested, and finally chose to stay together.
When they stopped, Rowena studied his profile.
"You never look lost at an instrument," she said.
"I was once," Cass said.
She waited for more. He didn't give it.
"What did Ainsworth want?" she asked.
"To see if I'd beg," Cass said.
"And did you?"
"No. I accepted an invitation to his next stage."
Her smile crept slowly.
"You're very good at this," she said.
"Hmmm," Cass mumbled, reminiscing about his past and the current changes.
They ran the piece again, faster, laughing when both refused to yield the final cadence. She nudged his shoulder. He let the contact stay a second longer than politeness allowed.
He left her with a promise of recording equipment and a note in his calendar.
Evening stretched velvet-dark by the time he turned into the mansion drive. The house glowed gently. Elaine's silhouette moved in the kitchen window. Thomas's voice carried faintly down the hall, telling a story to nobody in particular. It felt like safety built on a new foundation.
In the dining room, the table was set for three. Elaine had tried another recipe. This time, the herbs obeyed. Thomas poured the wine with a solemn care that made it ceremonial.
"Your day?" he asked.
"Productive," Cass said.
Elaine studied his face. "Good, productive or dangerously productive?"
"Both," Cass said.
Thomas grinned. "That's our boy."
They ate. Cass let them talk, adding only what would strengthen, never what would worry. When the dishes were cleared, he brought out two slim boxes from a drawer beneath the sideboard. He placed one before Elaine and one before Thomas.
"What have you done now?" Elaine asked, though she was already smiling.
"Open them," Cass said.
Elaine lifted the lid to find a string of pearls, luminous and quiet. Thomas found a watch, not loud, only precise.
"I cannot possibly wear this," Elaine whispered, hand at her mouth.
"You already are," Cass said.
Thomas turned the watch over in his palm and nodded once. "Fits."
"It always would," Cass said.
Elaine hugged him suddenly, fiercely, the hug of someone who had spent years afraid of wanting anything.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For letting me feel… not invisible."
"You were never invisible," Cass said. "They were blind."
Thomas cleared his throat and stared at the mantel a moment before turning back with clearer eyes.
"We should have your Aunt Miriam here one day," he said carefully. "She apologised after your father's funeral. I think she meant it."
Cass thought of the ledger. Of names that glowed with cruelty. Of the one relative who had called and not asked for anything. He let the thought sit.
"Maybe," he said. "Not yet."
Elaine nodded, understanding more than he said.
Later, in his study, the Hidden Ledger waited. He opened it and watched the slow changes. Sienna's debt ticked higher, jealousy dragging weight. Trent's line pulsed with humiliation still fresh from campus.
Beneath them, new names formed. Not family this time, but business. A developer who had tried to undercut him. A columnist who added a barbed sentence to a flattering paragraph. Nothing actionable yet. Flags, not sentences.
'I won't swat flies. I'll just build a room without any windows.'
He closed the book. The system underlined the day with one more note.
[Perk Strengthened: Noble Bearing Lv.1 synergises with Aura of Refinement. Combined Presence +10% in elite settings.]
Cass stood at the window. The lawns were dark, gravel pale as bone in the moonlight. Out beyond the hedges, the city arranged itself around conversations that now included his name. The thought didn't thrill him. It steadied him.
His phone vibrated. Lydia Cole: confirming facilities and a private banker. Harrington: One word, Progress. Rowena with a line that made him smile.
Rowena: They will ask where your crown is.
His reply was immediate.
They will feel it when I enter.
He set the phone down and let the quiet soak into the house. Tomorrow would be contracts and foundations. The day after might be music and new names in the right columns.
In a month, Ainsworth's supper would test whether old rooms could change temperature. He looked forward to it like a pianist facing a new keyboard. With intent.
'Let them bring their titles. I am building a name.'