The sun was out again.
It draped itself lazily across the rooftops of the Nobility District, glinting off gold-trimmed railings and polished stone like it had nothing better to do. I stood by the window, watching as the city's wealthiest pretended nothing had happened - that the city hadn't almost bled itself dry just days before.
My room sat on the third floor of a guest manor under Cassian's control. Fancy. Overdone. A bit too floral. I was already dressed, the fabric of my shirt still soft from the warm press of a servant's iron. A loose-fitting noble suit in midnight grey, the kind usually worn by spoiled young heirs to cocktail parties - minus the obnoxious shoulder chains. I'd left the tie somewhere near the mirror and hadn't touched the shoes. My revolver, still loaded, sat tucked just out of sight near my waist. As always.
What I really wanted was my flat cap. I had left it back at the apartment, unfortunately. Not like it would've fit in here anyway. A bit too... real for this place.
The knock came soft, as expected.
"Enter," I said, turning away from the window.
Mary stepped in. She wore a muted teal overcoat, trimmed with silver and laced with buttons down the middle. Her hair was tied loosely behind her head, and she looked composed, as usual.
Except for her eyes.
There was a spark in them - a flicker of something unspoken. She tried to hide the small curl of her lips when she saw me upright and dressed.
"You're awake," she said, too casually.
"I am," I nodded. "Unfortunately."
She closed the door behind her and folded her hands behind her back. "You look better than expected."
I gave her a lopsided grin. "I clean up well. Who would've thought near-death could be fixed with good lighting and cotton sheets?"
A pause. Then she smiled, the expression flickering across her face like a secret.
"I was just about to grab something to eat," I said, glancing toward the door. "Assuming I don't get shot on the street execution style. Want to come?"
She blinked, caught slightly off-guard by how casual I was being. I could see the exact second the bait hooked, and her eyes secretly glittered in the window light.
"I suppose I am a bit hungry," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear bashfully. "But I'm choosing where we eat."
"Of course."
---
The Nobility District smelled like rose-oil and rich people's perfume.
Every inch of it was too clean. The cobblestones were polished to a mirror sheen. Trees were trimmed into perfect shapes - some unnatural enough to suggest they'd been cut with rulers instead of clippers. Brass lampposts arched elegantly over the wide roads, glowing with pale golden gaslight even in daylight.
Carriages glided by, wheels silent, pulled by jet-black draft horses dressed better than some commoners. Each one bore an emblem: roses, swords, lions. Bloodlines and lineages on parade, for all to see and endear.
We passed a street lined with boutiques. One displayed an array of silk gloves under a rotating glass dome. Another showed off custom prosthetics, plated in gold and silver. Somewhere to our left, a violin quartet played beneath a gazebo, ignored by most passersby except for a few bored-looking noblewomen sipping floral tea.
"This place always looks fake," I muttered.
Mary hummed softly, sipping from the tall glass of water she'd bought earlier. "At least it maintains standards. I still don't understand why commoners are allowed to run businesses here."
I side-eyed her, choosing to stay quiet. Inwardly, though, the comment rubbed me the wrong way. As if pedigree dictated worth.
But now wasn't the time for that argument.
Eventually, we stopped in front of a quaint little storefront - glass windows fogged with heat, a copper sign hanging above the door in swirling cursive: Bellmont's Delights. A bakery, if the smell of fresh bread and sugared dough was anything to go by.
An older woman behind the counter spotted Mary the moment we walked in.
"Oh, Lady Mary!" she gasped. "We didn't expect a visit today. Please, anything you want - on the house, of course."
Mary offered a practiced, charming smile. "Thank you, Madam Bellmont. You're always so kind."
I stood half a step behind her, hands still in my coat pockets. The shopkeeper gave me a once-over - the kind of look that wasn't hostile, but... curious. Confused, maybe. Suspicious.
A boy in plain black next to someone like her?
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
Yes, I'm real. Please return to your pastries.
We left with a box of warm fig-and-honey rolls, a pair of lavender shortcakes, and two tall glasses of spiced milk. I paid for nothing. Obviously.
We found a bench tucked into a quiet corner near a fountain. Its waters danced around a carved angel holding a torch.
I took a bite of the shortcake. Sweet. Flaky. Ridiculously good. Of course it was, everything here was always so good.
Unfortunatly, I'm a stickler for sweets.
We sat in silence for a bit, while I nibbled on my food like a chipmunk. Just the sound of trickling water and far-off violin accompanied the sound of chewing.
After I finished my food, I exhaled, and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table.
"Mary. I need to tell you something."
She turned toward me, face neutral again, gently wiping away at the crumbs left on her mouth.
"This isn't about food. I just didn't want to talk in that manor."
She nodded once. "I figured."
I looked at her carefully. "I trust you."
She blinked, taken slightly aback. I could even see her mouth slightly ajar, as if what I said came to such a massive shock.
"You're the only one I can talk to about this. Not just because of... who you are. But because you have just as much to lose as I do."
The expression on her face flickered - guilt, maybe. Maybe something else.
"I found something," I continued. "In the drainage tunnels. A hidden room used by the Heretics"
Hearing the word 'Heretics', Mary clicked her tongue, and a look of disgust mirrored her face.
"Messages. Letters. Plans. The nobles who were poisoned… they were working with the Eastern Empire. With the cultists."
Her breath caught. Her lips parted slightly, as if the words had knocked something loose inside her.
"Are you sure?"
"They left behind enough to hang half the Inner Court."
Mary leaned back slightly, absorbing the information. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap.
"The nobles that drank the wine," she said slowly, "they're dead."
I looked at her, something sinking in my gut.
"What?"
"They died during the night, while you were passed out. The Healers tried everything, but they just... didn't wake up. The Emperor ordered them given full rites. They're being sent back to their families as Martyrs of the Empire."
Martyrs.
Perfect. Turns out what the Bishop said was right.
I clenched my jaw. "Have the bodies been delivered yet?"
"They're still being prepared."
"They'll destroy the evidence," I muttered, rubbing my chin in contemplation. "The families. If they know, they'll burn the evidence, the bodies, everything. If we don't act now…"
She turned to me. "What do we do?"
I stood up, and loosened my collar.
"We stop them."