The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats echoed on the road, which was beginning to dry after last night's rain, as Charles made his way back to the capital. The mid-morning sun shone through thin clouds, as if trying to completely dry the earth below.
The young man's thoughts still dwelled on the smoke rising from the temple and the mysterious cloaked figure. Though he knew returning to investigate now would be an unnecessary risk to his life, the thought lingered in his mind.
He unfolded his map, studied it briefly, then tucked it back into his pocket, reviewing the route back.
On the way, he reached the spot where he had been ambushed earlier. Charles slowed his horse, his eyes scanning the surroundings carefully. The wind whistled through the treetops, creating an eerie silence as if no living thing remained.
The muddy ground that once held footprints and carriage tracks was now clean, as if last night's rain had erased everything. The young man dismounted, examining the area thoroughly.
The spot where he remembered tying up the bandits was now empty, with no trace of ropes or the men's bodies. The only evidence remaining was a faint knife mark on a tree.
Charles thought the bandits might have been apprehended by authorities, or perhaps had managed to escape. He stood up, looking around once more before returning to his horse. The hoofbeats echoed rhythmically on the damp ground.
"Whatever happened to them... it's probably not as important as what went on at the temple," Charles muttered to himself, gripping the reins more tightly.
Along the way, the dense forest path began to open up. The late morning sun cast warm rays, while the scent of damp soil and wet grass still hung in the air. The young man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tension that still gripped his mind.
When he reached the open fields flanking the road to the capital, the wind picked up. The smell of smoke and bustling activity from the city drifted on the breeze. Signs of the vibrant life within the city walls grew clearer.
Charles slowed his horse again, stopping to gaze at the distant capital. The metropolis ahead was a familiar sight he had returned to many times, but this time everything seemed different.
'Every time I come back, I would go to the guild, then greet Lady Wilson and rest. This time I'll have to visit the special unit first,' he thought.
The young man urged his horse forward along the main road leading into the capital. The noise of people and carts carrying goods grew louder as he approached, even though the sun was now beginning to set.
Charles guided his horse into the queue for the standard checkpoint. His face was mostly hidden beneath a hood, but the faint sulfur smell clinging to him was impossible to conceal.
The guard at the gate raised an eyebrow when the acrid scent wafted toward him. One man quietly said to his colleague, "That's sulfur."
Charles presented his city entrance documents. The guard took them for inspection, then looked back at him with suspicion. "Why do you smell of sulfur?" he asked, stepping back slightly as if afraid the odor might stick to him too.
"During my journey, I rested my horse near a sulfur mine. The smell probably stuck to me then," Charles replied politely, tightening his grip on the reins.
The guard paused for a moment before returning the documents and gesturing him through. "In that case, go wash yourself quickly. Such a sharp, unpleasant smell disturbs others."
Charles nodded slightly before spurring his horse into the city. The sound of hooves echoed on the stone streets, mingling with the loud conversations of the people—a testament to the bustling life in this metropolis. But the young man paid little attention to any of it.
After passing through the main gate, a man in simple but elegant attire stepped forward. The sound of his leather shoes striking the stone pavement grew gradually louder.
"Detective Ravencroft, isn't it?" The voice called out, causing Charles to halt his horse and look at the man before him.
"Yes, that's me. Do you have business with me?" Charles responded, his tone cautious. After the situations he had faced earlier, anything unexpected right now might not be good news.
The man bowed his head slightly. "I am a servant of Sir Christopher Darcy. He wishes to see you."
The name Christopher Darcy made Charles pause. "Sir Christopher wants to see me? What about?"
"He urgently needs to speak with you," the servant replied with a steady voice.
Charles examined the man again. His attire was simple yet immaculate, his skin slightly pale like someone unaccustomed to frequent sun exposure. Every gesture he made was calm and confident.
"I should clean myself up first. You must smell the sulfur on me. It wouldn't be appropriate to meet Sir Christopher in this condition."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, sir. Sir Christopher specifically instructed me to bring you to him without delay."
Charles stared at the man. 'Why would he want to see me? We don't know each other personally. I don't understand this at all.'
"No choice then," he nodded to the servant. "Lead the way."
The man bowed his head again before leading him, while Charles rode silently behind.
The sulfur smell still clinging to Charles wafted through the air with every breeze. Though he tried to ignore it, several pairs of eyes looked his way with curiosity and slight disgust.
'If it weren't so urgent, I'd certainly clean myself up first,' Charles thought, letting out a long sigh.
"Where are we going?" Charles asked quietly.
"The Treasury Department, Mr. Ravencroft. The master is waiting for you there," the servant answered.
"So what exactly does he want to see me about?"
The servant stopped walking and turned to face him, his eyes showing a hint of caution. "That, I do not know either. Master Christopher insisted he would explain everything himself when he meets you."
Charles frowned before letting out a soft sigh. A sense of unease gradually built within him. He looked down at his hands gripping the reins tightly, as if trying to suppress his curiosity.
In the outer royal district, they arrived at the grand entrance of the Treasury Department—an imposing building made of white marble. Elaborately carved wooden doors stood majestically before them.
The servant turned to meet Charles's eyes again. "You must leave your horse here and follow me inside."
Charles nodded, handing his horse to an attendant waiting at the entrance. He hastily brushed dust from his cloak, knowing the sulfur smell remained but having no time to worry about it further.
As he followed the servant into the building, the atmosphere inside was quiet yet tense. The hallway was covered with luxurious red carpets, and light from crystal chandeliers made the floor gleam.
Walking through the brightly lit corridor, Charles encountered a massive wooden door looming ahead. Two men stood guard in front of it, both wearing plain but powerful-looking uniforms that marked them as official government personnel—a unit assigned to high-level security.
One of them stepped forward to block the way. The tall, broad man had cold eyes filled with caution. "Stop," he said in a level but firm voice.
Charles halted, observing the two men before him. The second guard stepped closer. "Permission to search you," the man stated without waiting for an answer, his hands beginning to check Charles's body.
"Is this really necessary?" Charles asked, his tone slightly annoyed.
"Sir Christopher is an important person. If you have nothing to hide, there should be no concern," the other replied flatly while continuing to search him.
They found a handkerchief, a pocket watch with a slightly tarnished edge, a small glass vial containing reddish-gold liquid, and finally, a pistol hidden in Charles's cloak.
Upon pulling out the gun, one of the guards raised an eyebrow before examining it carefully. "Is this your weapon?"
Charles shook his head slightly. "No... I seized it from bandits who ambushed me on the road. If I hadn't come here first, I would have turned it over to the City Guard by now."
The guard nodded. "Nevertheless, you cannot take it inside," he said, handing the gun to his colleague for safekeeping.
Then the other guard picked up the glass vial. "And what's this? What medicine?"
"Medication for treating injuries. I need it in certain circumstances," Charles answered calmly.
The guard examined the bottle warily. "For safety reasons, we must confiscate this as well. I'm sure you understand we must be cautious about potentially dangerous substances."
Charles sighed deeply. "If necessary, take it—but don't break the bottle."
Once the search was complete, the guards nodded for him to proceed, securing the confiscated items in a small metal box.
After the thorough inspection, the guards permitted Charles to continue. The servant, who had been watching silently, stepped closer.
"All clear now?" the servant asked the officials politely.
"All clear. You may escort him in," the guard replied.
The servant turned to Charles with a faint smile. "Please follow me. Sir Christopher is waiting."
Charles nodded slightly before following the servant into the room ahead. The servant then led him to another door within the room, maintaining a small distance so as not to appear too rushed.
Upon reaching the second door, the servant stopped and bowed slightly. "I cannot follow you inside from here, as this is Sir Christopher's private area."
"Thank you," Charles replied briefly, watching as the servant bowed his head once more before walking away, positioning himself at a corner of the outer hall, maintaining a polite posture and ready to receive orders.
Charles took a deep breath to suppress his curiosity before pushing open the door. Inside was a spacious room with intricate carpet patterns. A faint aroma of herbs filled the air. In the center stood a polished wooden desk where Christopher Darcy sat. The smooth stone wall behind him was adorned with a large gold-framed painting, and a tall pendulum clock stood in the corner.
The rhythmic swing of the pendulum echoed through the room at regular intervals, making the atmosphere feel even more oppressive, especially when the clock hands pointed to three, yet it chimed twelve times.
"Pay no attention to the clock; it's been broken for quite some time," Christopher remarked, raising his right hand to brush away hair that had fallen across his forehead. A large gold ring on his thumb reflected the light.
Christopher's sharp gaze fixed on Charles the moment he entered. His face wore a slight smile, as if ready to say something.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ravencroft," Christopher greeted him warmly. The pendulum clock chimed again, this time only once, though the hands still pointed to three.
As Charles was about to return the greeting, his eyes caught sight of a woman standing near Christopher. She wore dark, simple yet fitted clothing. Her body exuded strength and vigilance.
She had a stern face, and her dark brown eyes studied Charles like a hunter assessing prey. Her hair was cut short to the nape of her neck.
Charles examined her carefully. The veins on her hands were prominently visible, indicating intense physical training. Her shoulders were broad and her neck defined, suggesting well-developed muscles beneath her simple attire.
'A personal bodyguard,' Charles thought. 'Judging by how close she stands to Christopher, she must be quite skilled.'
When Christopher noticed Charles's gaze on the woman, "You must be wondering who she is," he said, as if reading Charles's mind.
"I was indeed thinking that," Charles replied, shifting his gaze from the woman to Christopher, who was adjusting the gold ring on his thumb.
Christopher gestured toward her. "This is Fiona. She is my personal bodyguard... and the person I trust most."
Fiona bowed her head slightly out of courtesy, but her eyes remained fixed on Charles. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ravencroft," she said, her voice low but clear.
"Pleased to meet you," Charles responded, still not taking his eyes off her. The pendulum clock chimed again, this time three times.
"Well then, please have a seat," Christopher invited.