15 February 1875 of the 6th Era, Lindau Street, Stolberg

  Charlotte wasn’t in a hurry to get up. Or even open her eyes, as she still felt exhausted from yesterday. Instead, she stretched, thoroughly enjoying the softness of the sheets and the quietness of the room.

  I should do this more often.

  The last couple of months brought nothing but endless complicated, almost gruelling cases. For all but a few, she had to travel to the middle of nowhere. To tiny villages and small towns where the best bed in an inn looked like a couple of planks cobbled together with a stiff mattress thrown on top. Not a place where one wanted to stay for longer than necessary.

  I hope Marvel, Meteor, and Gem aren’t too sad that I’ve been gone for so long. She once again unhurriedly stretched, then turned to the side and looked at the window. The heavy snowfall from yesterday gave way to bright blue skies, and the sun reflecting off the white surfaces was almost blinding.

  Just marginally more blinding than the light dancing on the gilded vines and birds adorning the wallpaper. Now that she was more or less awake, or, at least, in a state where she could appreciate the details, she had to admit that Antony was not joking when he described the hotel as “worthy of the King of Lundhaven”. The mural on the ceiling depicting The Hunt at Abergreen; the colourful, yet tasteful design of the floral patterns on the walls; the large bed with a dozen pillows of different sizes; the soft duvet and the extra blankets for those finding central heating not enough… All of it was truly mesmerising. It somewhat reminded her of the sitting room in the manor of Lady Shimmerbloom – the king’s cousin and next in line for the throne, should he not get children of his own.

  She lazily turned around, finding Antony quietly watching her.

  “What time is it?”

  “A quarter to ten.”

  “Does the sun really get up this early or are you just trying to ease my consciousness for sleeping in till noon?”

  Antony laughed as he sat up, “We’re in Stolberg, not in Nymea. Even in Ledavia, the darkest time of the year would be between the end of November and somewhere beginning to middle of January. Then, there would gradually be more and more sunlight. And at one point, you would barely notice it set, but it does set.

  “I think the sunrise happened around eight in the morning.”

  She listened to his explanation, still staring at the shimmering snow outside with a bit of disbelief.

  “Did you manage to get any rest?”

  “Plenty,” he yawned and absentmindedly tried to smoothen down his hair. “No, truly I did, don’t give me that look.”

  Charlotte shook her head, indicating what she thought of his present condition, “What are our plans for today?”

  “Get breakfast, then look for a bookshop, and then… Frankly, whatever you feel like doing. There are galleries, exhibitions, and I can see if I can get us tickets for the Stolberg Drama Theatre, though I would beg you to not ask me about the opera. For that, I’d have to travel some twenty years into the past and leave a note for myself. Or ask the Lady of Luck for a favour, but you surely know how that would end.”

  “I met her on a few occasions. She’s worse than the Lady of Magic,” Charlotte couldn’t help but wince, as if she were suffering from toothache. “What about the dust? Weren’t you going to analyse it?”

  “I exchanged a few Sending spells with Dorian while you were resting. He will take care of that.”

  “He didn’t strike me as an early bird.”

  “One would think that, given his complexion, but he’s been the head of the Adventurers’ Guild for a couple of centuries now. Getting up early is part of his job description.”

  “You’re blushing, you know that?”

  “I may have gotten a somewhat snarky reply back, even though I made sure not to disturb him until nine,” he confessed.

  “And Professor O’Neill? Is he not joining us?”

  “For lunch together with Dorian, if all goes well. He wanted to visit Stolberg University of Arts. Yesterday, while we were waiting for the Nightmare Poets to take Ms Glancy away, he said he remembered something that just didn’t make sense in the context of our investigation. But he wanted to make sure he wasn’t mistaken or making things up.”

  “He does realise that it might get dangerous, doesn’t he?”

  “I warned him, and I’m certain that yesterday’s incident will make him exercise caution,” he breathed deeply a few times, steadying his nerves. Charlotte reached out and hugged him. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better. No more butterflies or hair with a will of its own, I assure you. You weren’t watching me the entire night, were you?”

  “I told you, I got plenty of rest. But even if I did, what of it?”

  “I won’t just become a Seer out of nowhere. You’ve experienced it before, haven’t you?”

  “I have never been close to one when it happened.”

  “You’ll know,” Charlotte turned back to gaze at the street. “I wish I got to see it. What I’ve read sounds tragic, but also inexplicably beautiful. The skies that change colour; the meteor showers that follow; the gentle shifts in the flow of mana; the blooming of white lilies across the land… It all sounds so poetic.”

  “It is.”

  “Truly, there’s still plenty of time before that happens, no need to mourn me before I’m gone,” as she said that, Antony’s stomach growled, making both of them laugh. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  ******

  Antony briefly stopped in front of the large mirror in the foyer to adjust his top hat and scarf before leaving the hotel. Not that there was truly a need for perfection, but Stolberg always made him feel a particular way. His smile became warm as he remembered how Jessamine made fun of that habit of his all those years back.

  It really was weird. The city always instilled in him a feeling of reverence and an unexplainable desire to look his best no matter what he did, even if it was something as simple as walking to the bakery down the street. Was it due to the landscape surrounding the city or her spires striving towards the heavens? Or was it due to the history of the place? Probably all of it mixed with the fact that it was situated on top of a mana leyline confluence. He did not need to concentrate to feel the Source’s energies permeating the terrain.

  During the Second Era that was now lost to the sands of time, this area was considered sacred for that very reason.

  As they unhurriedly started walking down the street, Antony quietly whistled. Almost immediately, a fluffy white cat jumped down from the nearby roof and hurried towards them, expertly climbing onto Antony’s shoulder.

  “Long time no see,” Greg yawned, showing rows of unnaturally sharp teeth.

  Antony took out an ancient looking coin and passed it over to him. Greg cheerfully examined it, rotating it and seemingly enjoying the way the sun reflected off the surface, then closed his paw around it. The coin disappeared, as if he were a street magician.

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  “It is, indeed. At least a couple of months,” Charlotte reached out and scratched the cat behind the ears. “Did you follow us from Quillivia?”

  “Never went there. Came straight from Ledavia,” as Charlotte’s face turned into a perfect picture of doubt and confusion, Greg sniggered and explained, “I’ve been here for a couple of days.”

  “He really wanted to see you.”

  “Hey!”

  “I’m happy to see both of you any time of the day,” Charlotte smiled to that, watching Greg puff his cheeks and wag his tail disapprovingly. “I thought Antony asked you to come here because of yesterday’s incident.”

  “Oh, no. Even dragons cannot cover that much distance within a single night. I’m glad the two of you aren’t hurt,” Greg’s tone became serious. He then turned to Antony and continued, “Drachenburgh was nice.”

  “Did you meet Camille?”

  “Yes. She gave me fish and told me to remind you of your responsibilities. Said you’ve been shirking away from them, or something along those lines. Her Celestial is a bit hard to comprehend.”

  “She’s too strict sometimes.”

  “It’s because you’re more involved with the world of mortals than, you know…”

  “Let’s leave that discussion for another time, shall we?”

  “Being berated for not being diligent is not something I would have ever expected to hear about you,” Charlotte gave him a most curious look, as if she had suddenly seen a new side of him. “Where to now?”

  “I would suggest the ‘Dragon’s Nook’, as it’s the largest bookstore in the city and isn’t too far away from here. Comfortable walking distance,” Antony tried to remember the lay of the land. He did visit Stolberg every now and then, whenever he needed to accompany Lord Blackwater to the annual meeting with the ministers or any other formal event. Unfortunately, during those trips there was very little time to enjoy the views, let alone go shopping. “If they don’t have that book, which I find almost impossible to be the case, we can visit the ‘Curious Pony’. They’re a small store, but from memory, they specialise in poetry.”

  “Hopefully the news hasn’t gotten out yet.”

  “In that case, I’ll just have to fetch my copy. I couldn’t confess back then without blowing my cover, but yes, I, too, was intrigued by all the rumours,” he heartily laughed. “And before you ask, I didn’t find anything pointing towards an unsolved murder. Although… If it happened in Stolberg, I wouldn’t even know where to look.”

  “Why did that theory become so popular?” They resumed their promenade with the fresh snow crunching under their feet, “Mr Holmes said yesterday that the article was incredibly vague, but there had to be something that caught everyone’s attention, right?”

  Antony adjusted his glasses and frowned, trying to recall the details.

  “I know that it was initially printed in one of Stolberg’s literary journals about a year and a half ago. You know, the small kind that only a handful of people would ever buy, and that mostly to place it on the coffee table in the drawing room to give the interior that sophisticated feel. However, someone actually read it, and that someone was influential enough that it got reprinted in one of Stolberg’s major newspapers. Imagine it landing on the front page of Lundhaven Times. From there, it travelled across the country, getting coverage in Quillivia Daily, Ledavia’s Morning Herald, and, if memory serves me right, even got a few mentions abroad, notably in Nakara and Batmir.

  “As to the details… It read almost like a puzzle. No, not almost, it was a puzzle. People were trying to see if reading every third word made sense. Some tried substitution ciphers. Others believed that there was intricate word play involved, but one had to translate the article into a different language.

  “There were many theories going around at that time, but nothing substantial. It was strongly believed that the deceased was a noble, or at least belonged to the upper class, and possibly a long-lived species. That’s why there were doubts as to the time of the murder.”

  “How did people reach that conclusion?”

  “The writing style of the poems was very old-fashioned and unorthodox. A number of her poems also feature elves and sylphs, or have longevity as the main theme. Supposedly, at least.

  “I think at one point people simply assumed things, and rumours became facts.”

  “Supposedly?”

  “It’s that blue vase and wilting flowers all over again. There’s so much that could be interpreted whichever way. I fear the only way to make sure would be to ask her.”

  “She did not become a ghost, so that is impossible.”.

  “You couldn’t talk to her lingering essence, either, right? I don’t even remember you trying to do that.”

  “There was nothing to talk to. Not exactly unusual, given the circumstances of her death,” Charlotte stopped. “What is that?”

  “The World Theatre,” Antony looked in the direction she was pointing. “Home to any play even remotely experimental in nature. If your idea of good entertainment is watching a man sit in the middle of the stage for an hour and a half, then pronounce a single line of monologue, that place would be your first stop.”

  “Quite fitting, given how it looks.”

  Antony had to agree with the notion, as the facade stood in stark contrast with the surrounding buildings – plain and painted a dull grey, whereas the office buildings next to it were seemingly holding a contest for the most amount of towers, the most elaborate murals, and the most exquisite curvatures of their bow windows. The only element that stood out about the World Theatre was the giant ornamental wooden door with bird and vine motifs carved on it.

  “It did spark quite the controversy when its design was first revealed about sixty years ago, but the architects stood their ground, explaining it as a desire to bring a piece of Ledavia into the heart of Stolberg. You can probably imagine how the long-lived folk took it.”

  “I’d be quite offended if I saw something like this appear in the middle of Lindau,” Charlotte adjusted her sleeve, deep in thought. “Is the interior just as dull? Or have you never been inside?”

  “I have. Andrew, for a lack of a better word, is fascinated with that place. Whenever they announce a new play, my first and foremost task is to secure tickets, the world be damned.”

  “Considering his status, I expected him to have a personal box.”

  “He probably could, but I think it would conflict with his values. He tries to bring more equality,” Antony shook his head, remembering their recent conversations, then continued, “As for the interior, it’s… Something you’d need to experience. Words truly fail to describe it.”

  “When you say something like that…”

  “You know, we could have a peek inside once we’ve fetched that book. Surely no one will mind a slightly unauthorised excursion,” Antony winked, with great pleasure noting that Charlotte was having a hard time hiding a grin. “Or… Maybe I will have to drop by my house after all.

  “And I wondered if it was just my imagination or the hotel staff was incredibly gossipy about something.”

  They came around the corner to see a large line in front of what was undeniably the bookstore Antony had mentioned.

  “It could just be someone’s book signing session? Is Sir Fleming in Stolberg right now? Or Ms Winters?” Charlotte said, but without much hope.

  And whatever little hope she had was immediately shattered once they approached the crowd and heard a newspaper boy shouting, “Read all about it! Tragic incident! Ms Willow, a famous poetess and spiritualist, found dead aboard The Iron Giant! Read all about it! An exclusive interview with Mr Bachmann!”

  Noticing the newcomers, he pivoted towards them and rapidly continued, with words coming out so quickly that one could almost see them tripping over each other, “Sir, Madam, want to buy a newspaper? Threepence per copy!”

  “We do,” Antony took out his wallet and found the necessary coins, exchanging them for the freshly printed sheets. The boy instantly lost interest in them and continued his routine, filling the “blurb” with more and more outrageous details that were sure to at least raise a few eyebrows, if not help boost the sales.

  “Who is that Mr Bachmann?” Charlotte slightly leaned towards Antony as she tried to get a good look at the newspaper.

  “Head of the local Nightmare Poets office,” Antony shifted slightly, lowering the newspaper to a height that would be comfortable for both of them. “Not sure if any of this is useful though. So far, this ‘interview’ reads like a series of ‘no comments’, but in an overly bureaucratic form. I do wonder who brought this to the press, seeing that we only learned about Ms Glancy’s other identity from Professor Stein.”

  “It could be her, or maybe someone from the SIU brought it up carelessly. Or,” Charlotte thoughtfully tapped her chin, “it could be someone from her household. Surely it wasn’t just Professor Stein who was aware of her pen name?”

  He continued reading, hoping to pick up some clues to answer that question, or, perhaps, glean some new information. Unfortunately, there was nothing. At least the article did not mention any details that could be crucial to the investigation.

  “So… A detour to Ledavia?”

  Before he could reply, he felt a light tug of magic, as if someone were politely knocking on the door. Antony closed his eyes, allowing the Sending spell through, then quickly sent back a reply. Charlotte and Greg patiently waited as the exchange continued, until Antony finally sighed with a mixture of relief and mild annoyance.

  “Perhaps we won’t need that. Dorian got his hands on a copy. He’s in exceptionally foul spirits, however.”

  “Is getting woken up at nine to blame for that?”

  “Oh, no. I fear it is way worse than that. He spent an hour trying to convince the Commander of the Royal Knights that there is no need to go looking for the one responsible for yesterday’s miracle. That man is… a handful, let’s put it this way,” he diligently folded the newspaper and hid it in the pocket of his winter coat. “Now, seeing that we have nothing better to do, what do the two of you say to that excursion?”