Klaus studied Nicholas for another moment, then stepped back with a slight gesture toward the tower entrance.

"Care for some tea?"

The guards at the Eastern Tower's gate snapped to attention as Klaus approached. Their movements carried the sharp precision of soldiers who had heard enough stories to take their duties seriously. The massive iron-reinforced doors swung open without need for explanation or credential checking.

Klaus led Nicholas through corridors that reflected his family's taste for understated elegance—polished stone floors covered with rich carpets, walls lined with portraits of Lionhart ancestors, windows that offered glimpses of carefully maintained gardens. The Eastern Tower served as both residence and fortress, beauty balanced with defensive necessity.

They settled in a ground-floor salon designed for formal meetings, though Klaus chose to ignore the stiff chairs arranged for diplomatic encounters. Instead, he guided Nicholas to a dining table where they could sit across from each other like equals rather than lord and petitioner.

Klaus closed his eyes and let his awareness expand across the estate grounds. His enhanced senses picked up thousands of details—conversations in distant barracks, the rhythm of training exercises, kitchen staff preparing evening meals. He focused on nearby buildings until he located what he sought: a kettle of freshly brewed tea in a kitchen not far from their current location, along with appropriate serving pieces.

Opening his mind realm, Klaus activated the first three eyes of the Ten Eyes Mantra. Power flowed through channels that had been carved by ancient techniques, responding to his will with precision that made magic feel like natural extension of thought.

"Third Circle Magic: Spatial Exchange," Klaus spoke quietly.

Translucent magic circles appeared beneath objects in the distant kitchen—a kettle still warm with tea, delicate cups, a small tray of accompaniments. Corresponding circles manifested on the table before them, geometric patterns that pulsed with controlled energy before completing their purpose.

The kitchen items materialized on their table with gentle displacement of air, arriving exactly as Klaus had intended without disturbing their contents or arrangement.

Nicholas stared with eyes wide enough that Klaus could see white around the irises.

"Magic?" Nicholas whispered, as if speaking too loudly might make the display vanish like illusion.

Klaus didn't respond immediately. Instead, he employed simple telekinesis to pour tea into both cups, liquid flowing in graceful arcs that defied gravity while steam rose in patterns too perfect for natural occurrence. The demonstration was deliberately controlled—enough to answer Nicholas's implied questions without revealing the full scope of abilities that transcended normal magical classification.

Klaus set each cup precisely beside its intended recipient, then leaned back in his chair with casual ease that suggested such feats required no particular effort.

"So," Klaus said, meeting Nicholas's still-stunned gaze. "You wanted to see me?"

Nicholas ignored the question entirely, his attention fixed on lingering traces of magical energy that sparked around cup handles and table edges.

"You're not only a swordsman but also a mage," Nicholas muttered, pieces of some internal puzzle clicking into place. "That explains a lot. I understand now how you ranked first in those initial trials before we all enlisted in our respective armed forces."

The mention of armed forces made Klaus's thoughts turn toward White Lion—the unit he'd abandoned almost two years ago when fate had pulled him toward larger conflicts. Images flashed through his mind: Alexandra's determined expression during training sessions, team members whose names he could still recite from memory, soldiers who had trusted his leadership during training sessions that seemed simple compared to current challenges.

Grief touched his heart like cold finger tracing old wounds. How many of those people had died at Northwatch because he'd been too weak to protect them? Klaus wondered if his current power might have made difference during that final battle, whether enhanced abilities could have saved lives lost to forces that had overwhelmed conventional defenses.

Yet even as regret threatened to take hold, Klaus remembered the Duke's true nature—homunculus created by entities whose capabilities exceeded normal understanding. Would even his transformed state prove sufficient against such opposition? The question carried troubling implications about enemies yet to be faced.

"Why did you want to see me?" Klaus asked again, his voice carrying patience that invited honest response without demanding immediate compliance.

Nicholas sipped his tea with deliberate care, as if buying time to phrase questions that had brought him here. When he looked up, his eyes held intensity that spoke to stakes extending well past casual curiosity.

Interesting. So he's like those from the Arkadia continent, Nicholas thought, though his expression revealed nothing of internal analysis taking place behind careful facade.

Nicholas set down his cup with precise placement that suggested nervous energy being channeled into controlled movements. His gaze met Klaus's directly, unflinching despite obvious recognition that he was addressing someone whose capabilities exceeded normal human limitations.

"Are you also an Apostle?" Nicholas asked, his voice steady despite weight of implications carried by such a question.

Klaus felt recognition spark—not surprise exactly, but confirmation of suspicions that had been building since their first meaningful interaction. Nicholas possessed knowledge that exceeded what normal observers should have been able to gather through casual observation. The question revealed understanding of systems and classifications that remained hidden from most people, even those operating at elevated levels of political or military authority.

"Yes," Klaus replied with simple honesty that cut through any possibility of misunderstanding.

The single word hung in air between them like stone dropped into still water, creating ripples that would continue expanding long after initial impact had faded. Nicholas's expression shifted through several emotions too quickly for Klaus to catalog completely, settling finally on mixture of satisfaction and concern that suggested this confirmation had answered one question while raising several others.

Klaus waited for Nicholas to process implications of admission that carried weight extending well past personal revelation. The conversation had crossed threshold from polite social interaction into territory where words carried consequences that might reshape their relationship permanently.

In the comfortable silence of the Eastern Tower's salon, two young men who had been shaped by forces exceeding normal understanding sat across from each other over tea that had been summoned through magic, each recognizing that simple questions sometimes demanded answers that changed everything.