If the past wanted my attention this much, the least it could do was send an appointnt letter.
Preferably one written on decent paper, delivered at a reasonable hour, with an appropriate subject line and no ancient relics rummaging through mories I had no intention of acknowledging.
Alas, history had always been ill-mannered.
It hid in ruins, slept beneath cities, wore away inconvenient truths, and then had the gall to look mysterious when discovered. I knew this very well.
In my past life, I spent years digging through dead civilizations and trying to decipher what they had left behind. From broken pottery, damaged walls, burial sites, old tools, to faded inscriptions.
Humanity had a tedious habit of dying ssily and expecting later generations to make sense of its process.
In that sense, this world was not very different from Earth.
It simply added magic, curses, ancient beings, and an unreasonable amount of people with swords to the mix.
The next morning, I woke up with a headache.
It wasn’t caused by alcohol. I had not consud a single drop of palace wine, because I treasured my life and my digestion.
It would take barrels to get drunk, as well.
No, this headache was born from a much more aggravating cause.
Thinking.
Too much of it.
By the ti the morning light filtered through the curtains, I had already rearranged the events of the previous night in my mind several tis.
The black-gold fragnt reacted in the lower vault and the Crown Prince reacting to this fragnt.
Abi recognized sothing and lied to .
Yes, I will never let him live this down.
The empress knew enough to invite but not enough to appear fully in control.
Lord Keeper Marcellus knew more than he let on. I’m betting half my wealth that he was sohow involved in this far deeper than anyone would assu.
And Spiro, in his sleep, begged not to be taken back.
All in all, a crowded list of irritations.
I preferred my problems neatly arranged, labeled, and preferably solvable with money, threats, or a sword.
These were not.
How rude.
After dressing, I went directly to the study.
William was already there, naturally.
Sotis I suspected the man did not walk into rooms but materialized where his competence was urgently required.
On the desk were three separate stacks of docunts tied by three separate ribbons.
Black. Blue. Silver.
I looked at them. Then at William.
"How thoughtful of you to categorize my problems."
"Your Excellency seed displeased with their lack of organization last night."
"I was displeased with their existence, in general."
"That too, Your Excellency."
Abi, who had shalessly followed in despite the hour, leaned over the desk with interest. "What are these colors?"
William answered before I could tell him not to touch anything. "Black for the lower vault and relic. Blue for His Highness the Crown Prince. Silver for the Young Master’s matter."
Spiro’s matter.
My expression did not change.
Inside, sothing sharpened.
"Let us begin with silver," I said.
William had expected that. He had already untied the silver ribbon and handed the first report.
Bernard’s preliminary investigation had expanded through the night. The steward connected to the route permit was nad Edric Leeds, attached not directly to Duke Boleoti’s personal household, but to the estate office of the second duchess.
Second duchess. Must be a stepmother.
Typical.
The trader who carried Spiro was still unidentified by true na, but two false identities had been traced. Both had been used in transactions involving discarded servants, debt-bound laborers, and illegal child transfers masked as apprenticeship contracts.
Charming.
I could already feel my mood improving in the direction of murder.
"And the trader?" I asked.
"He is not yet found," William replied. "But his network remains active in the Capital. Our people are watching three suspected handlers."
"Alive?"
"For now."
"Good. Keep them that way, until I say otherwise."
I turned the page.
The Capital interdiary led to a charity called the House of Gentle rcy.
There were few things I distrusted more than organizations with overly pretentious nas. Gentle rcy. Pure light. Sacred hands. Benevolent refuge. The more beautiful the na, the more likely there was rot in the cellar.
It was cruel irony.
"What is this charity?" I asked.
William handed over another page. "Officially, it supports widows, orphans, and abandoned children displaced by border conflicts. It is patronized by several noblewon and receives donations from temple-affiliated circles."
"Unofficially?"
"That remains under investigation. However, two forr employees disappeared last year after accusing the administrators of falsifying adoption records."
"How predictable."
Abi picked up a pastry from a plate I did not rember ordering and bit into it. "Humans truly has a preference in dressing cages as kindness."
I glanced at him. "That almost sounded profound."
"I have my monts."
"Rarely."
He smiled.
I continued reading. One na appeared among the charity’s patrons.
Lady Marielle Rouvier.
Rouvier.
As in Lady Evelina of House Rouvier, the Crown Prince’s first dance partner.
I leaned back.
This was amusing.
The sa central faction family tied to the ceremonial first dance had a noblewoman involved in a charity connected to the interdiary tied to Spiro’s transportation.
Is it a coincidence though?
Perhaps.
But I disliked coincidences that involved themselves in my people and my business.
"William."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Find out whether Lady Marielle Rouvier has any connections in the North."
"We are already confirming it, Your Excellency. We’ll have word for it in a day or two."
"Excellent."
"Additionally, there is one more detail."
He handed a smaller note.
I took it.
The note stated that the House of Gentle rcy had recently sponsored a private blessing ceremony for children with unstable mana awakenings. The officiating cleric belonged to a minor temple branch that had sent a representative to my estate yesterday.
The cleric who slled of stale incense and decaying wood, according to Abi.
I looked up.
Abi had stopped chewing.
"Oh?" he said.
"Recognize sothing?"
"Not yet." His expression turned unusually still. "But that sll from the cleric... it may have been from a sealed place."
"The temple?"
"Perhaps. Or sothing beneath it."
Wonderful. So wonderful.
Because what this delightful ss needed was another basent.
I set down the silver report and rubbed my temple.
Spiro’s trail now brushed against Boleoti, illegal child trade, a suspicious charity, the temple, and possibly House Rouvier.
A child should have a simpler history.
Eat. Sleep. Play. Learn. Cry over sweets. That should be the extent of it.
Not like this. Never like this.
"Do not let Spiro near any representatives of that charity or temple branch," I said.
"Understood."
"Increase the guard around him, but keep it natural."
"I have already had that arranged."
"Good."
Abi watched with a small smile.
I ignored it.
"Blue," I said. Sigh. This is worse than any overti work I had to do in the past.
William untied the second stack.
The Crown Prince’s condition remained frustratingly vague. Palace procurent records showed continued purchases of rare herbs associated with vitality stabilization, mana suppression, and inflammation of spiritual channels. None of the dicines by themselves confird a diagnosis, but together they ford a pattern.
A hidden condition involving life force and mana circulation.
I noted the possibility of it being worsened by ancient relic exposure.
It can also be that he had sothing sealed or cursed. It was still too unclear.
I despised vague illnesses. They had the sa energy as vague prophecies and vague dinner invitations. All three were socially acceptable forms of harassnt.
"Any physician nas?" I asked.
"We discovered three recurring ones. Two are still employed by the palace. One disappeared from public record seven years ago."
"Disappeared?"
"Retired, officially."
"Of course."
No one important ever disappeared. They either retired, traveled, secluded themselves, pursued private study, or died from sudden illness.
It was polite vocabulary for disposal.
"Find him. Better if he’s alive. Bring his remains if not."
I disliked disturbing the peace of the departed, however, so problems required special asures. Besides, if he died unjustly, I’d also be giving him justice.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
I turned another page. "What about the warding formations in the Crown Prince’s residence?"
"It has been observed that it is composed of old and new layers. The oldest were installed when he was ten. The newest modifications occurred three months ago."
"Three months?"
"Yes."
That was close enough to the coronation to matter.
"Who authorized them?"
"The empress’s office."
Again? Hmm.
Empress Lyrien’s hands were everywhere.
Whether she was protecting her son, controlling him, or both remained unclear.
Mothers, truly.
Mine would have done all three with terrifying efficiency.
"What materials were involved?" I asked.
"Silver ash, sunstone powder, powdered basilisk horn, and black salt."
I looked up. "Black salt?"
William nodded.
Abi frowned. "That is not for ordinary warding."
"No, it isn’t," I said.
Black salt had a specific use in wards and spells. It was commonly employed in boundary formations ant to keep spiritual pollution from crossing a threshold.
It is not a simple curse ward but a contamination ward.
"How familiar is the imperial palace with black salt formations?" I asked.
"Not enough to use them properly without assistance," William replied. "The technique is uncommon outside the East and certain older temple branches."
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