I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Cordelia swept into Blackthorn Manor with an air of purpose, her green gown rustling softly as she moved. The opulent foyer echoed with her footsteps as she made her way past bustling maids, their eyes downcast as she passed.

Pausing near a gilded mirror, Cordelia opened her ornate purse. Inside, the folded green paper from Dr. Bronn's office caught her eye. A smirk played at the corners of her lips as she thought, 'Just wait, Matilda. You've always thought yourself so clever, so superior. We'll see how that changes now.'

"Excuse me," Cordelia called out, spotting a familiar face. "Mara, isn't it? Where might I find Matilda?"

Before Mara could respond, a deep voice resonated from around the corner. "I'm afraid my wife is indisposed at the moment."

Lord Blackthorn emerged, his massive frame filling the hallway. Mara bowed her head and quickly retreated, leaving Cordelia alone with the imposing figure.

Blackthorn cut an impressive silhouette in his tailored black suit, a blood-red cravat at his throat. His brown hair was neatly combed back, accentuating his sharp features and piercing gray eyes. A faint smile played on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Cordelia," he said, his voice a low rumble. "What a pleasant surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Cordelia's pulse quickened, but she maintained her composure. "Lord Blackthorn, good afternoon. I had hoped to speak with Matilda on a matter of some importance."

Blackthorn's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "I see. Well, as I mentioned, she's currently unavailable. But perhaps you'd join me for tea in the courtyard? We can await her return together."

'Tea? Since when does Lord Blackthorn offer tea?' Cordelia thought, her suspicion growing. Her eyes darted to the hulking figure of Gustavo, Blackthorn's ever-present guard, lurking near by.

"That's very kind of you, Lord Blackthorn," Cordelia replied, her tone carefully neutral. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense," Blackthorn insisted, gesturing towards the courtyard. "I insist. After all, any friend of my wife's is welcome here."

As they walked, Cordelia felt a growing sense of unease. The courtyard, usually a serene space, now felt like a beautifully appointed cage. Blackthorn pulled out a chair for her at an ornate iron table, his movements graceful despite his size.

"So, Cordelia," Blackthorn began as a maid poured tea, "you mentioned an important matter. Might I inquire as to its nature?"

Cordelia sipped her tea, buying time. "Oh, just some trivial women's business. Nothing that would interest you, I'm sure."

Blackthorn's eyes glinted. "On the contrary, I find myself quite interested in my wife's affairs these days. She's been... distracted lately. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?"

'What game is he playing?' Cordelia wondered. Aloud, she said, "Distracted? How so?"

"Oh, you know Matilda," Blackthorn said, waving a hand dismissively. "Always involved in some project or another. I just wonder if perhaps she's taken on too much. That new boy, for instance - Zafron, I believe his name is?"

Cordelia's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Zafron, but she kept her face impassive. "I'm afraid I don't know much about Matilda's household affairs."

Blackthorn leaned forward, his massive frame seeming to engulf the delicate tea table. "Come now, Cordelia. You and Matilda are such close friends. Surely she confides in you?"

'He's fishing for something,' Cordelia realized. 'But what? And why?'

"Lord Blackthorn," she said carefully, "while Matilda and I are indeed friends, I assure you, I'm not privy to her every thought or action."

Blackthorn's smile tightened. "Of course not. My apologies if I've made you uncomfortable. I'm simply concerned for my wife's wellbeing."

As they continued their dance of words, Cordelia found herself studying Blackthorn. His face remained a mask of polite interest, but there was a tension in his shoulders, a sharpness in his gaze that belied his calm exterior.

'He's worried,' Cordelia thought. 'But about what? Does he suspect something about the test results? Or is this about Zafron?'

"I must say," Blackthorn continued, his tone deceptively light, "I've been considering a trip soon. Perhaps you might have an idea of where Matilda would enjoy going? She's mentioned wanting to travel, but I can't recall where."

Cordelia's mind raced. Was this a trap? Did something happen to Matilda? Where was she even? "I'm afraid I couldn't say," she replied cautiously. "Matilda has such varied interests."

Blackthorn's eyes hardened for a moment before he schooled his features back into a pleasant mask. "Indeed she does. Well, I'm sure she'll turn up soon enough."

The phrase sent a chill down Cordelia's spine. 'Turn up? What does he mean by that?'

As if on cue, Gustavo appeared at the edge of the courtyard, his presence a silent reminder of the power dynamics at play.

"Well, Lord Blackthorn," Cordelia said, setting down her teacup, "I appreciate your hospitality, but I really must be going. Perhaps I'll catch Matilda another time."

Blackthorn rose, towering over her. "Of course. Allow me to escort you out."

As Lord Blackthorn escorted Cordelia towards the manor's exit, his imposing figure loomed beside her. He cleared his throat, his tone deceptively casual.

"I've been meaning to ask, Cordelia," he began, "were you present when Matilda hired that new boy? Zafron, I believe?"

Cordelia's heart quickened. "I'm afraid not," she replied, keeping her voice steady. "I only heard about him after the fact."

Blackthorn hummed thoughtfully. "I see. And what are your impressions of him? Matilda seems quite... invested in his potential."

"I haven't had much interaction with him," Cordelia said carefully. "But Matilda has always had an eye for talent."

As they approached the grand staircase, Blackthorn's piercing gaze bore into her. "Indeed she has. I wonder, though, if sometimes her enthusiasm might cloud her judgment."

Cordelia opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly her heel caught on the edge of a rug. She stumbled, her arms flailing as she tried to regain her balance. Her ornate purse slipped from her grasp, hitting the marble floor with a sharp crack.

The contents of her bag scattered across the polished surface - a compact mirror, a delicate handkerchief, and a folded green paper that skidded to a stop at Blackthorn's feet.

Time seemed to slow as Blackthorn bent to retrieve the fallen items. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he caught sight of the alchemist's logo on the green paper - a stylized "XY" intertwined with a serpent.

"How clumsy of me," Cordelia gasped, her face flushing as she scrambled to gather her belongings.

Blackthorn's large hand closed around the green paper before she could reach it. He unfolded it partially, his brow furrowing as he scanned its contents.

"A potency script?" he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "How... interesting."

Cordelia's mind raced, searching for an explanation. "It's not what you think-"

"And what exactly do I think, Cordelia?" Blackthorn interrupted, his tone sharp as a blade. "Perhaps you'd care to enlighten me on why you're carrying such a document?"

The air grew thick with tension as Cordelia struggled to formulate a response. Blackthorn's eyes, previously merely calculating, now burned with a mixture of suspicion and barely contained rage.

"I-" Cordelia began, but Blackthorn cut her off with a raised hand.

"No, I think we've had quite enough half-truths for one day," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I believe it's time for a more... thorough discussion."

He gestured towards a nearby study, its heavy oak door suddenly looking like the entrance to a dungeon. "After you, Cordelia. I insist."

Cordelia's legs felt leaden as she moved towards the study, acutely aware of Blackthorn's massive presence behind her. As she crossed the threshold, she heard the door close with a soft click that sounded like the sealing of her fate.

Inside the room, Blackthorn moved to stand between her and the exit. He held up the green paper, his eyes glinting dangerously in the low light.

"Now then," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "let's start at the beginning, shall we? And this time, Cordelia, I suggest you choose your words very carefully."

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