The Last Godfall: Transmigrated as the Young Master-Chapter 171: Margin of Error

Vencian stepped into the Marendil mansion and walked straight into Larion's office without slowing. He was already seated when the door shut, his back against the chair, a small coin-like disc rolling over his knuckles in a tight loop. His eyes tracked the motion, not the woman across the desk.

The disc halted between his fingers. He closed his hand around it and held still.

The woman opposite him rested her chin on both hands, elbows planted, lips curved. Her voice came light and dry.

"You look a little different than last time, Lord Vicorra."

Vencian's gaze drifted past her to the bookcase along the wall, stopping on a shelf where the bindings leaned unevenly. He spoke while lowering his hand and setting the disc on the desk, the metal clicking once before his sentence finished.

"I'm in a hurry, so if you would be so kind as to fetch your father, my lady, I can speak with him."

Nanis Marendil leaned forward, closing the space without leaving her chair. The desk edge pressed closer to his knees as she shifted, her smile staying fixed. Her eyes dropped at last, tracing the line of his bandaged forearm and the stiffness in his shoulder.

"Until he arrives, you can talk to me," she said. "I'm certain I can help. Or do you think a woman can't manage a conversation like this?"

The disc rolled again, once, twice, a short loop before his fingers caught it and stilled it. His jaw tightened, and he kept his eyes on the desk blotter as he answered.

"This isn't a new matter," he said, his voice flat. "It follows directly from the last discussion, and that limits what can be said."

He paused, shifted his weight in the chair, then finally looked up at her.

"Especially to someone who wasn't present."

Nanis's smile did not move. She eased back into her chair as if conceding the point, shoulders loosening, hands folding together on the desk.

"Well then," she said, tilting her head. "We can talk about something else. How are you holding up after the excursion incident?"

She waited, eyes on his face now, long enough to invite an answer. Her gaze slid to his left leg, lingering where the fabric pulled tighter at the knee, and her hand lifted before stopping halfway to the desk edge.

"Never mind," she added lightly. "That limp answers it well enough."

Vencian's hand shifted toward the disc, fingers starting to roll it, then stopped halfway. His breathing stayed even, his shoulders stayed set, and his eyes remained where they were.

I would like to punch her.

Nanis continued without changing her posture, her voice still carrying the same idle edge.

"Oh, I heard your former betrothed went missing after that. How unfortunate," she said, as if finishing the same thought. "Truth be told, I never liked Seris. Something about her always felt tedious. Too careful. She even reminded me of Roselys at times."

Only after saying Seris's name did Nanis glance at him.

Nothing in Vencian changed. His back stayed against the chair, his gaze fixed forward, his breath steady. He blinked once.

Nanis's voice flattened.

"You don't even smile."

The door opened behind her, the latch clicking and wood shifting against the frame. Larion stepped in, his presence filling the room without hurry.

"Nanis," he said. "Leave us."

She rose easily, already turning away, one shoulder lifting in a lazy shrug.

"I was just making conversation," she said, half over her shoulder.

She was almost past Vencian when he spoke, his eyes still not on her.

"You confuse competence with threat," he said. "That's all this is."

He said nothing more.

Nanis stopped, the curve breaking for a moment as she turned back, her mouth setting as if to speak.

Larion's voice cut across the room at once.

"Go."

She held his gaze for a second, then left without another word.

Larion closed the door behind her, the wood settling fully into the frame. His eyes went to the coin-like disc on the desk before he spoke.

"So," he said, tone level. "You're functional again."

The room held still for a beat.

The disk stopped under Vencian's fingers.

"It was overdue," Vencian said. "I'm more curious about when the kingdom plans to be."

Larion moved toward his chair as he answered, adjusting the sleeve of his robe, not facing Vencian yet.

"What happened was unacceptable," he said. "But we respond by choosing what matters next, not by—"

Vencian cut in before the sentence finished.

"Last time, you told me the Apostolates were the priority," he said. "That Pentarch could wait. What happened shows we weren't ready for either."

Larion turned then, meeting his eyes.

"We have to be right every time," he said. "They only need us to be wrong once."

Vencian nodded once and straightened, shifting his weight as if resetting his stance.

"Let's drop it," he said. "That isn't why I came."

The disk lay still under Vencian's fingers.

"I need information," he said. "On men named Jerenir and Galanoth."

Larion did not answer at once. His hand paused against the back of the chair, and his gaze stayed on the desk longer than the object on it required. When he spoke, it came after a short delay.

"How did you come across those names?"

Vencian did not look at him.

"Does it matter at this point?"

Larion shifted his weight and straightened the chair, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

"Tell me how much you think you need."

Vencian adjusted his position and sat more squarely, his back aligned with the chair. He drew in one breath.

"Everything," he said. "Down to the last detail the Church or the Crown has on Galanoth. All of it."

He stayed upright and still after saying it.

Larion looked away, eyes settling on the window frame as if measuring something unseen. When he spoke again, his tone did not change.

"You will be provided with what exists," he said. "What can be verified."

The words carried an edge of limit without naming one.

Vencian rose. The movement was quiet and complete. He pressed the disk flat to the desk, his fingers firm as they left it there, and turned toward the door without another glance.

"Vencian." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Larion spoke before he reached the threshold.

"If you believe I found you in Tiria," he said, "you're mistaken. Roselys located you. That is how I reached you in time."

The statement ended where it began. Vencian paused.

Larion stood and crossed the room, closing the distance himself.

"My sense is that neither of us fully honored our arrangement," he said.

Only then did he draw out a second object, similar in make to the one on the desk.

He took Vencian's hand, brief and without ceremony, turned the palm upward, and set the object there. He pressed it down and closed Vencian's fingers over it, the pressure direct and measured.

"This one does not fail after a single use."

He let the words sit.

"What does that mean?" Vencian asked.

Larion held his gaze.

"It means my assessment has changed," he said. "You matter more than you present. That requires adjustment."

He released Vencian's hand first.