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The water in the cup was drained in a single motion. The cup was then gently set down on the table—but almost at once, it shattered into a heap of glittering, water-speckled shards.
"Professor Sieg, that cup wasn't cheap." Rudolf sighed as he glanced at the man seated opposite him. He pulled a cloth from under the wooden table and swept the fragments into a pile before snapping his fingers and summoning a small rift in the air to dispose of the debris.
"One of these is half a month's wages, gone. Enchanted glassware may be handy, but crafting it is no trivial matter."
"Just what do you mean by this, Rudolf?" Sieg demanded, his voice low and edged with anger. "We've worked together for quite some time now, haven't we? As members of the Royal Research Association, I'd even call us friends. Did you invite me here just to trap me?"
Sieg's normally even temper was fraying. He barely contained the storm brewing within him.
His communication device was flashing ceaselessly with urgent summons—messages urging him to act, bearing grave intelligence about the descent of the God of Terror. Yet intricate sealing arrays had woven an unbreakable barrier around this room, imprisoning him.
"Of course we're friends. Why don't you stay here and chat with me, rather than worry about all the fuss happening outside?"
Rudolf shrugged casually, an innocent look on his face. From beneath the table—though there was nothing visible there—he somehow produced another cup identical to the one Sieg had crushed, setting it before him and filling it with a crimson liquid that looked like wine.
"This time, try not to break it," he said with a thoughtful frown. "It's, ah… my second-to-last cup. I have to say, the royals' stuff is truly first-rate."
He drained...
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