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Near the west coast, a chubby ginger cat leapt gracefully from a rooftop to the ground, landing with precision. It followed a stone path to a narrower road leading to a quaint, cosy cottage adorned with lush, vibrant plants on its patio. The house, built with red bricks and wooden accents, boasted a white-coated table and chair on the left, often used for reading or tea time.
Sniffing the air, the ginger cat caught the wafting aroma of almond tea and sandwiches. Sliding its chubby body through the gaps in the fence, it made its way towards the window.
Through its inquisitive gaze, it observed Ezekiel amidst a tumult of potions within a cupboard—another peculiar sight to add to the day's collection.
"Where on earth did I stow it?" Ezekiel lamented aloud, frustration palpable in his voice. "This is ridiculous; am I too old to remember where I stash things?"
Grumbling and grunting as he mistakenly picked up yet another wrong potion, he clinked the glass vials around in agitation. "Why is there a 51TH-V tool in here?"
The young man with short wavy blonde hair narrowed his eyes as he shuffled through his memory. Did he mistakenly put it here? Quite impossible, as he always separated his appliances and collections elsewhere. Ezekiel rarely touched mechanical bots, let alone kept their equipment in his potions cupboard.
Finding his Firefore potions missing from their designated place, Ezekiel took a closer look at the tool. Unsurprisingly, he found a familiar name etched into the steel, conjuring up the image of two young brats. Shoveling through his pockets, he finally took out a crumpled note he had found near the kitchen table. He unfolded it and squinted at his younger brother Hugo's barely legible scrawl, groaning indignantly.
"Yet again, another excuse to play with his bumbling friends," Ezekiel realized, shaking his head at his brother's antics.
Meanwhile, Harold, Hugo's twin, was likely lost in the pages of a book at the town's library. The brothers, though twins, couldn't be more different, often finding themselves at odds. As the eldest of the trio, Ezekiel often played peacemaker, though his efforts usually fell on deaf ears. Such was the life of an older sibling, he mused, as he watched his brothers go about their antics, unfazed by his words of wisdom.
With a suspect in mind, Ezekiel narrowed down the possible culprits for the missing potions. With Hugo, trouble was always afoot. Thinking about the previous expenses he had incurred due to Hugo's adventurous deeds, resulting in substantial property damage, Ezekiel could almost hear his wallet wailing yet again.
On the other hand, with Harold, Ezekiel could visualize him studying the component and seeing if it fit with his newest invention. If he succeeds in finding ways then he'll ask for money, and if he fails to find ways; he'll also ask for money...
Ezekiel now hears it clearly at the sobbing of his wallet come about, sniffling and crying over those brats.
Tying his cloak, Ezekiel gulped down the rest of his sandwich before finishing off his tea as he planned to catch those brats. "Rufus, keep an eye on the house. I'd better find them before another building goes up in flames!" he called to the ginger cat lounging by the window.
The feline merely flicked its tail gently before jumping inside and plopping down comfortably, accustomed to the routine chaos caused by the brothers. But today was meant to be different.
Meanwhile, in the bustling town of Ravenford, preparations were underway for the anticipated yearly celebration of the spring season. Colourful flags and banners adorned houses, bearing the majestic feline with its big mane and golden fur, the symbol of the royal crest. Staple foods of good bakes and hearty meals could be seen in every household. Maids and servants scurried about, carrying out their masters' or mistresses' orders for the day's events.
At the Baron family's residence, Mrs. Edma was busily scurrying around while the butler closely followed. The grand ball of the town was to be held in the main house of the family. Stacks of letters were being carried out frantically, perfectly placed stamps adorning the neatly folded envelopes as they fluttered away to their designated addresses—a common sight throughout the day.
"Ensure those envelopes are enchanted twice, in case those pesky koly-birds try to nibble on them again," Mrs. Edma reminded her servant for the umpteenth time, to which the patient old Stuart replied dutifully, "Of course, madam. Enchanted as per your orders, along with the flowers package, and the dessert," he assured her calmly amidst the bustling preparations.
"Have you sent the list to the secretary? I still need the tulip set of dining tools to be placed in the west wing of the room."
The chatter densely continued as they went briskly around. The town of Ravenford, handled by the century-long Baron family line, spanned from the Neo-Edwardian era to the current Solar Renaissance period. Situated on Luxterra Planet, 70 km southwest of the Aurora Nova Capital, Ravenford remained one of the oldest and longest-standing places where the historical traditions and architecture of the old took place. A relic of the ancient and long-gone blue planet once called Earth—that tale, however, is for another time. Now, we return to the common room of the baroness.
The finely crafted redwood furniture, shaped with intricate, soft edges resembling a dragon, captured the room's attention. Yet, Mrs. Edma, preoccupied with the clock striking 8:15, focused on signing the last bits of parchment before her.
"Some spearmint tea, madam? It'll help with sore muscles and light fatigue," the butler suggested, offering a cup.
Feeling a headache coming on, Mrs. Edma reluctantly cleared her desk, wondering where her elusive husband might be. "If he knew how to handle a lady in distress, he'd be here helping me rather than leaving me to manage alone," she muttered, taking a sip of her spearmint tea. "And to think I quite fancied him when I first saw him. Goodness me, how horrible it is now."
The inner maids calmly served another refreshment as they went about their tasks, unfazed by their madam's reflective mood.
Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted the morning bustle. "Madam, my apologies for the intrusion," a servant said, bowing slightly as he entered the open reading room. "A letter from Collins, ma'am."
Edma paused, her brow furrowing. Mundane thoughts cleared as she rose and retrieved the letter from the tray. In an instant, the demure demeanour she had worn moments ago vanished. Examining the symbol on the stamp, she hesitated before reaching for the paper-knife. As the envelope opened, Edma calmly took out the letter and read it.
For a moment, a minute passed. Then five, then ten, and another stretched to longer minutes without moving. The room fell into a tense silence as Edma read the contents, the clicking of the clock echoing softly in the background. Surely the loyal attendant in the room knew the note seemed filled with short words. Yet she absorbed the message continuously, her thoughts racing.
After a while, she set down the letter, her silky black hair obscuring her face. However, the maids abruptly cast their faces downwards; the glimpse of their madam's livid and angry face set the room to a boiling point.
—Bang!
A fountain pen was embedded deeply into the letter. Hazel eyes narrowed sharply as she glanced away from the parchment. "Summon the messenger and my husband immediately. Also, burn this letter, at once!" she commanded sharply.
As if the resume button was clicked, the room instantly erupted into action as attendants hurriedly fulfilled her orders. With the sound of frantic footsteps carrying around the manor, Edma clenched her fist tightly as the name of a certain blonde young man resonated in her ears. The letter before burned, with the capital letters seen embedded before the fountain pen, bearing the name:
—Ezekiel Septimus Aurelian Maximus, former commander of the Shadow & Blade squadron.
The charred fireplace's faded clack was heard as it was seen burning down a crumpled and torn parchment. Edma watched those words become ashes. Before all of it turned to nothing, the symbol of the stamps flickered silently; reflected within her tangled and complicated gaze—the pattern of the lion.
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