The night was deep.
Roy Corleone placed the book in his hands onto the coffee table.
The Detective and the Doctor, this was a book written by Durin, a secret he had only recently come to understand.
Caressing the engraved texture of the cover, he watched the night outside the window, reminiscing about the words spoken by a character named Sherlock within the book.
"There is one ultimate principle in this world, and that is, it doesn't matter what you do, what matters is what you can make people believe you have done."
Indeed, as the clerk of Copenhagen, Roy Corleone had always remembered his mother's worried expression from the time he could record events. His father passed away early, leaving him without strong feelings for the man, only a portrait on the wall to attest that he had once existed.
What about the Corleone family having produced seven clerks, three Night Watchmen, and one Keeper of Secrets... In young Roy's eyes, all of it was ancient history.
