Late evening settled over Storshallow's rooftops, staining them with gentle tones of copper and violet. Within the boarding house, lanterns flickered, their warm glows reflecting in polished wood and gleaming tableware. Merlin eased his way down the hallway to Wintrell's room, the small parcel pressing lightly against his vest. He'd promised to deliver it discreetly, and now, with most guests retreating to their rooms or enjoying quiet conversations in the parlor, seemed the safest moment.
He tapped lightly on the scholar's door. A muffled "Enter" followed, and Merlin slipped inside. Wintrell sat at the desk, lamplight warming the edges of his carefully combed iron-gray hair. Maps and notes lay scattered, weighted down by an inkwell and a few brass paperweights. The scholar looked up, eyes narrowing with keen interest as Merlin produced the parcel and placed it on the desk.
"Good. No trouble?" Wintrell asked, fingertips drumming the desk's edge.
"None that I noticed," Merlin replied softly. He glanced around—the curtains drawn, the scent of old paper and ink thick in the air. "The clerk said nothing. I took the quickest route home."
Wintrell nodded, cutting the wax seal with a small penknife. Inside lay a single folded sheet of parchment, lines of cramped handwriting twisting in unfamiliar glyphs. The scholar inhaled slowly, as though bracing for a difficult puzzle. "This… might be progress," he murmured. "I'll need time to translate."
Merlin said nothing, sensing his presence wasn't required for decoding cryptic runes. He offered a slight bow and moved to leave. But Wintrell halted him with a quiet word. "Merlin."
Turning back, Merlin saw curiosity tempered with caution in the scholar's gaze. "Yes, Master Wintrell?"
Wintrell tapped the parchment lightly. "You've been dependable. If you observe anything unusual—strange markings in alleys, talk of forbidden codices—bring it to my attention. It may help me piece this together."
Merlin inclined his head. "I will. Good evening." He slipped out, shutting the door softly behind him.
Downstairs, the parlor murmured with low conversation. Davren, the merchant guest, sipped tea while reviewing ledgers. Mistress Halewick exchanged a few words about tomorrow's expected arrivals with Annabelle, who stood by a vase of fresh flowers. Bertha had likely retreated to her quarters, having prepared and cleaned up the evening meal. Betram was nowhere to be seen—probably checking the cellar or oiling a hinge somewhere.
Merlin excused himself and climbed back up to his attic. He found Cinder stretched out on the bed, tail flicking lazily. The kitten greeted him with a soft mew, then rolled onto its side. Merlin settled on the chair beside the small desk, considering what he'd learned and what he hadn't.
He recalled the morning's whispers about odd runes and unregistered knowledge. Wintrell's new document might tie into that somehow. Merlin knew little of these "Lexicons" or keys to deeper truths, but each day, the city offered small hints. He pondered how he'd first found himself here: a second life in a world with layered mysteries. Perhaps the time would come when he'd understand the deeper currents beneath Storshallow's polite surface.
Cinder jumped into his lap, purring loudly. Merlin stroked the kitten's soft fur, considering his place here. He was an assistant—a role he maintained gracefully—yet he'd also become a watcher, gathering fragments of information. He wasn't sure what path lay ahead: becoming more than just a servant, maybe gaining subtle insights himself. But for now, he'd remain patient.
Time passed, and the boarding house's hush grew deeper. Outside, a horse-drawn carriage rattled by, hooves tapping a gentle rhythm. Merlin heard distant laughter—a late-night reveler returning home—and the sigh of a breeze rustling ivy along the walls. Inside, the floorboards creaked occasionally as someone moved about downstairs. Each sound anchored him in this reality, reassuring him that life progressed without rush.
He set Cinder down gently, then fetched his new jacket and inspected its stitching under the lamplight. Fine work—sturdy threads, neat seams. He appreciated how these small improvements to his wardrobe reflected the subtle growth in his standing here. He might not be wealthy or influential, but he carried himself with more confidence now.
As he hung the jacket back on its peg, his thoughts wandered to the staff's daily routines. They rarely discussed politics or forbidden knowledge. Their concerns were tangible: good meals, tidy rooms, and satisfied guests. Yet each contributed to the stability Merlin relied on. Halewick's discipline, Annabelle's kindness, Bertha's hearty cheer, Betram's gruff reliability—they made this place feel like a quiet anchor in a turbulent sea.
By the window, he glimpsed moonlight touching distant rooftops. Three pale crescents hovered in the sky, Eldara's mark faintly visible through drifting clouds. He considered the goddess's name, one he'd heard whispered and revered. If gods governed aspects of this world, would they guide or hinder those who sought hidden truths? He didn't know. The stars revealed no secrets tonight.
He returned to the bed, and Cinder promptly claimed his lap again. Smiling, Merlin leaned back, letting the kitten's purr lull him. He thought of tomorrow's chores—just another day of serving guests, running errands, maybe overhearing another cryptic hint in the streets.
It was enough. He'd made progress: a new kitten, better clothes, a task for Wintrell that hinted at larger mysteries, and a sense of belonging that grew steadier each passing week. In his previous life, he never imagined such a gentle yet intricate existence. Here, he savored the slower pace, the careful unfolding of events.
Eventually, he rose, snuffed the lamp, and curled under the blanket. Cinder settled near his feet this time, tail draped over her nose. In the darkness, Merlin listened to his own breathing, the kitten's soft sighs, and the distant hum of the sleeping city. He would wait, watch, and learn. Another dawn would bring another chapter of this quiet, complicated world.