An uneasy hush blanketed the carriage, tension pulsing in the air like a living thing. It was clear neither man fully trusted the other. Both harbored questions—questions that pressed against their minds, yet remained unspoken. They sat across from one another, seemingly lost in their own spirals of thought.
Finally, after the silence stretched too long, Joseph broke it with a hushed voice.
"Look," he began, carefully, "I can tell you've got doubts. Anything you want to ask me, just… ask."
Charles exhaled slowly, as though gathering his courage. His gaze drifted out the carriage window for a moment, then returned to Joseph. "All right. That underground place… the secret base, or whatever it was. What *is* it exactly? Why do you have to hide down there in the first place?"
Joseph's features softened at Charles's direct question. "That's one of the covert facilities used by our special unit. On the surface, the building's nothing but a decrepit ruin. But inside, we've installed mechanical contraptions, hidden entry points, and layers of protective magic. Not just anyone can waltz in."
Charles's expression grew more perplexed at the mention of "protective magic." After all he had seen, he decided to push forward with the next question on his mind. "Fine. Then tell me—how did *you* end up in this so-called special unit?"
Joseph let out a short laugh, though there was no real mirth in his eyes. He shook his head, seeming to gather himself. "I was recruited after that shipwreck two years ago. You remember, we both survived, but a lot of officials and diplomats were lost at sea. That disaster was the perfect chance for my enemies to take me down."
He paused, jaw tightening. "They blamed the tragedy on me—said I'd failed to provide proper security for the diplomatic party, that I was negligent. The fiasco had cost the kingdom dearly, so I lost all my official positions. I was stripped of certain social rights, placed under house arrest… Then my uncle, Edward Cavendish, offered me a way out."
"Which was… the special unit."
A solemn nod. "At first, I hesitated. I never saw myself as someone cut out for life-threatening missions or cloak-and-dagger work. But my uncle gave me reasons I couldn't refuse." His eyes glinted with a fierce determination Charles had rarely seen. "He told me I might earn back my respect. More than that, I could eventually rise to the rank of Grand Arbiter—a *supreme judge* of this kingdom."
Charles raised a brow. "Grand Arbiter? You mean, like the highest-level magistrate?"
"Yes," Joseph confirmed, voice steady. "The top judicial authority in the realm. The one who handles high-profile cases, and who can propose new legislation to reform the justice system. The one with real power to remake the kingdom."
An intense light of ambition gleamed in Joseph's eyes as he leaned forward. "I want that authority so I can bring about genuine justice—make sure that everyone, from peasant to noble, is treated fairly. So we can truly punish those who abuse their power, those who think they're above the law."
Charles regarded his friend with a new, deeper respect. He had known Joseph for ages, yet never realized he held such grand and fiery ambitions. "I see," he said softly, "I never knew you felt this strongly."
Joseph's posture relaxed, just a little. "I guess I never showed it, but I've had enough of the old ways. I want to fix them. If I become Grand Arbiter, that's my best chance. Of course, joining the special unit is just the first step. After that, there's a whole network of supporters behind me—people who are willing to back my progress if I prove myself."
"Supporters? Like who?"
Joseph's mouth curled in a slight smile. "All I can say is that they're people who want the same changes I do. They have enough clout to challenge the old guard, that entrenched circle of aristocrats who block every reform. Some of them have seats on certain councils. Others hold influence behind the scenes. Together, they could shift the kingdom's future."
Charles found himself studying Joseph's expression, now so lit with purpose. He had known Joseph had contacts, but he never suspected the connections ran so deep. They lapsed into silence for a moment, until Charles noticed something odd. Joseph was tapping his feet, left and right, more than usual. The movement seemed almost rhythmic.
"What's with your legs?" Charles asked, his tone curious but tinged with annoyance.
Joseph glanced down as if just realizing he was jiggling them. "Hmm? Oh… I guess I got carried away talking. Didn't realize I was moving around so much."
But as he spoke, a mischievous glimmer flashed in his eyes, and he half-smiled in a way that made Charles suspect Joseph was doing it on purpose—teasing him about his own injured leg.
"You jerk," Charles muttered, narrowing his gaze. "Wait 'til it's your turn to limp around."
"I doubt it'll be that easy to corner me," Joseph fired back lightly, a smug undertone in his voice.
They continued in that vein for a while—bantering back and forth, a strange mixture of tension and familiarity.
Eventually, the carriage rolled to a gentle stop outside Charles's modest home. The lantern's warm glow spilled onto the dark street, casting two overlapping silhouettes against the worn brick walls. Joseph carefully hopped down, then reached up to help Charles disembark, mindful of his injuries.
"Easy there," Joseph cautioned, voice low with concern. "Don't put too much weight on that leg yet."
Charles gave a brief nod of thanks. Leaning on the silver-tipped cane Joseph had offered him, he carefully stepped off the carriage. "Appreciate it," he said wearily. "I'll hold on to this cane for now. Tomorrow morning, just pick me up out front."
"No problem."
"See you tomorrow."
With that, Charles hobbled toward his door. Joseph lingered a moment, watching his friend vanish inside, then climbed back into the carriage, leaving Charles in the quiet darkness of the night.
—---
Inside his dimly lit home, Charles headed straight for his small bedroom, lighting a single candle along the way. After shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of a chair, he sank down with a tired exhale. Reaching over to his desk, he picked up an old book that lay beneath a few dusty papers. One page stuck out—a sheet of old parchment inscribed with cryptic writing.
"'Pro...phe***'" Charles murmured, squinting at the half-faded letters.
Weariness soon weighed on him, though, and he found himself slumping forward, eyes drifting shut as the candle flickered. The aches and bruises from the day finally took their toll, and he dozed off against the battered old desk, slipping into fitful dreams of swirling shadows and half-heard incantations.
Meanwhile, far across the city, the Cavendish manor lay bathed in silver moonlight. Clouds occasionally drifted overhead, muting the glow. Joseph's carriage clattered through the estate gates, welcomed by the warm radiance spilling from the gold-lacquered chandeliers within.
At the entryway, Joseph found Rebecca—his wife—waiting for him in a long white silk nightgown that gleamed softly in the lamplight. Her auburn hair fell in gentle waves over her shoulders.
"You're back," she said brightly, relief dancing in her eyes.
Joseph gave a tired smile and stepped down from the carriage. "Yes, sorry for being so late."
Rebecca frowned sympathetically, noticing his fatigue. "Have you had supper yet?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet."
"In that case, let me heat something up for you." She led him inside, through the softly lit corridors, until they reached the grand dining hall. Here, rich mahogany furniture gleamed under the subdued glow of a row of lanterns. The table had been set earlier for four, but now only two places remained, as the rest of the family had already retired.
"Your parents ate earlier," Rebecca explained with a gentle laugh. "They didn't want to wait so late."
Joseph nodded in understanding. It was a common occurrence these days, given his unpredictable schedule with the special unit. That rarely aligned with a normal family routine.
He sat down while she laid out a late supper—a simple but comforting meal. The aroma eased the knots of tension from his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured, picking up a fork to savor the tender roast. Each bite tasted like a balm for the day's chaos.
Rebecca watched him with kind concern. "You seem so tired today. Did something… unusual happen at work?"
Joseph sipped from a glass of red wine. The subtle sweetness and tang glided over his tongue, chasing away some of his fatigue. "A few complicated matters came up," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But don't worry too much. I'm all right."
Her eyes flickered with the awareness that he was withholding something, but she asked no further questions. She knew that was part of his duty. "Just… don't push yourself too hard," she said softly, lightly squeezing his hand. "I don't want you falling ill."
He closed his fingers around hers, a gentle reassurance. They held each other's gaze for a moment—an intimate exchange of trust that needed no further words.
When dinner was finished, she rose to clear the plates, and Joseph trailed after her into the kitchen, insisting on helping. "Let me help, darling," Joseph said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.
"It's alright... I can manage," Rebecca turned to give him a sweet smile, her eyes soft as she gently declined.
"But I want to help," Joseph protested with a soft voice, pouting slightly at being refused, making Rebecca giggle at his childish behavior.
"Well, if you're that eager..." Rebecca teased, pretending to be serious but with a hint of amusement in her smile. "Then help me wipe and put these dishes away."
"Deal," Joseph beamed at his wife, raising an eyebrow before grabbing a cloth and diligently starting to dry and store the dishes.
Together they washed, dried, and stored the plates in a smooth, practiced rhythm. Their banter and laughter turned the mundane task into a small, comforting slice of normalcy.
Unknown to them, a figure watched from the doorway—Lady Alice, Joseph's mother, quietly observing the couple as they laughed and leaned into each other with easy affection. Alice's lips curved into a faint, proud smile. She stayed long enough to see Joseph attempting a comedic flourish with a kitchen towel, prompting more giggles from Rebecca, before turning away.
Just then, one of the maids approached Lady Alice, carrying a candelabra. The older woman gestured quickly for the maid to be silent, not wanting her to intrude on the young couple's moment. The maid, perplexed but obedient, slipped away without a sound. Satisfied that Joseph and Rebecca had their privacy, Lady Alice retreated as well, disappearing into the manor's quieter corridors.
—---
Early the next morning, Joseph awoke feeling more refreshed. He spent a moment watching his wife peacefully asleep beside him, a faint smile on her lips, then gently rose from the bed and got dressed for work.
After finishing breakfast with his family, Joseph headed to the manor's stables where a carriage awaited him, prepared by the staff. He climbed aboard, taking the reins and guiding the horses out toward the main gate. Today, he had promised to collect Charles from his lodging, just as they had arranged the night before.