25 March 1686 of the 6th Era, Grand Avenue, West District

  “...In his defence, it was a dark night, and he had been working on his latest thesis for three days straight with maybe a couple hours of rest in between," Charlotte finished.

  “Still, he got scared of his own shadow, mistaking it for a ghost, and almost threw a fireball at it,” Antony disapprovingly shook his head and slightly leaned back in his chair. “Why would you even try to use a fireball to fend off a ghost, anyway? And I have always believed myself a coward… ”

  They were sitting in one of Ledavia’s new restaurants, “The Golden Dragon”, a place presently packed to the brim with the crème de la crème of nobility and lower upper class. Everything here screamed of wealth: the exquisite furniture, the silverware and porcelain plates, the many paintings tastefully arranged on the walls. The food, too. A single starter dish cost more than it took to feed a working family of two adults and three children for an entire month. Charlotte could only guess how Antony managed to book a table, but at this point it was rather clear to her that there was much more to him, his financial standing included.

  Restaurants were a relatively new development in both Lundhaven and Enua. Up until recently nobles preferred hosting festive dinners at their estates, and the poor gathered in taverns and bars, looking for a hefty meal and a pint. Definitely not the crowd to enjoy silverware or thinly sliced and fancily decorated baked potatoes with a side of salad and a couple of pieces of meat barely large enough to leave a taste in one’s mouth. Perhaps they would show appreciation for the gentle violin and piano playing somewhere in the corner, but soon would demand something more down to earth. A bard’s retelling of one of the epic quests undertaken by someone from the Adventurers’ Guild, or one of those sappy romance stories that had become so popular recently.

  “You don’t really look the part,” Charlotte raised her eyebrow, hearing his self-deprecating remark.

  “Oh, trust me,” he uneasily shifted in his chair, looking past her and out of the window, where people were returning home from a long day of labour. “I am. Any sign of danger, and my brain stops functioning. Best case scenario, I will flee. Worst? Be struck with fear that I can’t even move. The only few times I’ve found any bravery in me were when I had someone else to protect, but… No, truly, I am a coward through and through. Never rely on me.”

  “However, you wouldn’t have tried to throw a fireball at your own shadow.”

  “I hope not. Even when paralyzed with fear I tend to retain some semblance of reason,” he agreed. “Still, I find it surprising that he never told me this story. Ethan really loved having a good laugh at his own expense.”

  “That happened when he was already diagnosed,” Charlotte stopped smiling and lowered her gaze. “He was rapidly distancing himself from everyone, so I guess…”

  “I see.”

  They both fell silent for a while. Charlotte blinked a few times, recalling Ethan’s last words to her in that quiet well-lit room.

  At least I got to say farewell. Or something as close to a farewell as you allowed.

  “It’s been one hundred years, and I still can’t get over it,” Antony was first to speak. “It saddens me even more that I only received the news in one of your letters, and after the fact. Had I known, I would have at least–”

  “It was his wish. He didn’t want me to attend his funeral, either. Only his immediate family,” she ran her fingers along the edge of the table, leaving a thin layer of frost on the tablecloth. It almost immediately disappeared without leaving a trace. “I’m not sure if he was trying to ease other people’s pain or his own.”

  “Knowing him? Probably both. Truly, the fool.”

  The waiter finally brought the main course, and for a bit, they stopped talking, enjoying their food. When they were done, Antony continued, “Now… As for your request.”

  Charlotte inwardly sighed. That tone of voice definitely suggested the worst possible outcome.

  Antony hesitated for a moment, looking away, then shook his head, “I’ll gladly help.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte politely cleared her throat, unable to fully hide her surprise. “I was certain you were trying to think of how to phrase your refusal so that it wouldn’t offend me.”

  “Perhaps I was,” his posture relaxed.

  “If it’s too much of a bother…”

  “Not at all,” he hurriedly raised his hands. “Well… I’m a bit swarmed with work right now. Usually March is quiet, just routine meetings and an occasional report or two. Maybe deal with Lord Blackwater’s whimsy,” Charlotte noticed an annoyed grimace that appeared and instantly vanished from his face. “However, this year is different. Things refuse to add up. Projects that have been steadily in development are encountering setbacks. And everyone suddenly wants to meet with Lord Blackwater to discuss some matter or other, all of those urgent. I would almost suspect foul play, but I fail to see how someone could profit from all of this turmoil.

  “Unfortunately, as Lord Blackwater’s personal secretary, I have to deal with everything and everyone he deals with. I managed to get a few days off only after threatening to resign.”

  “Truly, you needn’t worry about me if you have little time. There’s only so many hours in a day, and rest is important, even for an elf.”

  “I can’t just abandon you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s your first visit to Ledavia, and Enua for that matter, isn’t it?” Charlotte nodded, and Antony calmly continued, “Foreign country. Few if any connections, judging by the tone of your letter. A delicate matter that you have to work on, and knowing the people involved, you’ll be walking on eggshells before you know it. While I am not a noble, I was born and raised here, and know how all of this works.

  ”Don’t misunderstand, I am certain you are more than capable of navigating this environment. However, I think I can save you precious time. Especially considering it’s someone’s life on the line.”

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  “I don’t recall mentioning that in any of my correspondence.”

  “No, but you mentioned enough details that I was able to put two and two together,” he lowered his voice. “The rumour mill at the Royal Alchemy Society is a wonderful source of unwanted, but oftentimes most valuable information. Lord Welz’s demise was quite the conversation topic, with all sorts of wild theories making the rounds. I won’t lie, I was also intrigued to the point where I considered looking into it, but work got in the way.”

  “I think I am beginning to understand your fascination with Sir Fleming’s writing,” she suddenly grinned, then leaned forward slightly, somehow still retaining an elegant posture. “What are the general feelings about it? What I mean to say is, do people believe Mr Brook is guilty?”

  “It’s mixed, I would say. Some think he’s the perpetrator, if only because of his Nakaran blood. Others oppose them, saying that he was made a scapegoat because he was born in that country. Some suspected that it was a member of the family, or a clumsy robber, or perhaps a hitman sent by some rival or other. Unfortunately, so far I’ve not heard anything grounded in facts.”

  “So nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Have the newspapers written about it?”

  Antony shook his head, “Very little and nothing I found of particular interest. I believe the family demanded privacy.”

  “Not even about the assailant?”

  Antony once again shook his head. Charlotte crossed her arms in deep thought. On the one hand, their behaviour was normal for a family in mourning, especially an aristocratic one that wanted to save face. On the other hand, for the newspapers to not start a rumour mill of their own, the money offered had to be enough to cover whatever imagined profits they might have received from covering the scandal, and then double the amount for good measure. And that usually happened when someone didn’t want something to come to light.

  “And what about the missing jewels?” She finally uttered, noticing Antony shift restlessly and realising that she had been silent for a good couple of minutes.

  “Huh?”

  “According to my sources, money and some jewellery went missing,” Charlotte explained patiently. “The money was soon found in Mr Brook’s house. Very unwise to stash it there if you ask me, though I have seen enough brilliant idiots commit crimes, so barely surprising. Not the trinkets, however. I’m not even sure what it was that was stolen. An emerald, or a diamond diadem, or…”

  “A very interesting detail. I can look into it if you want. Or… I can do even better,” Antony brightened up as he seemed to remember something. “I can arrange a meeting with the one in charge of the investigation. His superior, rather. He’s a good acquaintance of mine and owes me a couple favours. Doubt he will have anything against you meddling in the affair.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “If he can get this case off his hands, he’ll be more than happy to help,” Antony assured her. “Especially this case, as it involves aristocracy.”

  “I see. That would definitely be useful,” she gracefully nodded, then continued in a somewhat worried tone. “I have arranged for a meeting with Mr Brook tomorrow, but I am not quite sure how to approach the family of the deceased. Any suggestions?”

  “They’re really old blood, and very conservative in dozens of different ways. The late Lord Welz was one of Lord Blackwater’s good acquaintances, and I had plenty of opportunities to meet him and his children,” Antony added just in case. “Hm. You’re not affiliated with any agency to make it an official inquiry, are you?”

  “I’d rather not do that if that can be helped. The moment I make my presence official I might find myself facing other obligations,” she saw his puzzled expression, but felt no need to expand on that statement. “I guess I’ll just have to try my luck in arranging a courtesy visit.”

  “Unless we find a better way of doing it. If you would give me some time to think about it–”

  “My lady.”

  Charlotte’s face became a cold blank as she calmly turned towards the voice, while Antony quickly rose to his feet and deeply bowed.

  “Your Eminence,” he uttered.

  “Oh, Mr Levy. A pleasure to meet you.”

  Even though he did well to hide it, Charlotte still noticed Antony stiffen at the greeting. Almost as if he were alarmed by the fact that the elderly moon elf in front of them remembered his name.

  “Charming. I can forgo the introductions.”

  “Cardinal Whitesand is not a frequent guest at Lord Blackwater’s office, but he does visit occasionally, and we have met at different charity events,” Antony turned to her, then once again faced Cardinal Whitesand. “I am surprised you remembered me.”

  “Not as hard a task as one would imagine. Lord Blackwater praises you at every opportunity he gets,” Cardinal Whitesand smiled. “I don’t see him, however. Does that mean that the two of you are–”

  “Mr Levy is a friend of a friend. He heard that I decided to visit the city and invited me for dinner,” Charlotte replied levelly. “As for my presence, it is a private matter, nothing to worry about.”

  “I see,” he hesitated for a moment. “However, there is something–”

  “A private matter, Bernard,” she repeated. “I don’t have a permit to deal with anything that would require more than the most basic of spells, so unless whatever you want from me boils down to mending a coat, I fear I am of no help.”

  “I will see to it that all those restrictions are lifted by tomorrow morning,” he lowered his voice and apologetically continued, “I understand that you don’t want to be disturbed, but it seems that the stars themselves have brought you here. There’s a matter that has been bothering the city as of late, and there are some signs that it could turn into something rather grim if not dealt with swiftly. The Nightmare Poets are already involved, but...”

  “Why stop there, when I conveniently appear right out of nowhere,” she sighed. Arguing with this man was pointless. “What is it that you want my help with?”

  “It is best if you join the task force and learn everything there is to learn from them. The briefing will take place in about one hour from now, at the cathedral.”

  “You owe me.”

  “Of course,” he deeply bowed, completely unfazed by her rude tone, and returned to his table.

  “Quite the company,” Antony mumbled, returning to his seat. “Former Minister of Education, chief of the city guard, and is that… One of our army’s generals, yes.”

  “He is the head of the Church of the Dead Moon in Enua, so hardly surprising,” Charlotte pouted, watching him, then stood up and curtsied. “I am afraid I must get going. Before someone else decides to ask for help with something. Until tomorrow, I hope.”

  Antony wanted to say something to stop her, or at least offer to arrange for a cab to take her to her chosen destination, but his body refused to listen. He couldn’t even move a finger, much less utter a word. He noticed that others in the room, too, had the same reaction. It was becoming very hard to think, or even breathe. It was almost as if the entire world was rapidly losing its colours, until it was only shades of white and black. And with colour, it was also losing any and all emotion, until there was nothing but lethargy.

  Calm your thoughts. There was, there is, there will be. Yesterday and Tomorrow. But not now.

  Charlotte walked out, and suddenly, everything was back to normal. The sounds of merry laughter and livid conversation filled the room in an oddly pleasant cacophony. It seemed that no one noticed what just happened, either.

  For a while, Antony sat still, looking at the now vacant chair opposite him. Mindlessly, he took out his pocket watch and ran his finger along the well-polished side, as if searching for a hidden button or lever, but stopped mid motion. He got up, paid the bill, and, too, left the building, instantly disappearing in the crowd of office workers.