Thursday Morning, Bourguis Inn
Arshen, who had just woken up, immediately began his morning exercises to familiarize himself with his body. Once done, he grabbed a towel and went to freshen up.
Tap...
Dressed in his brown coat, Arshen stepped out of his room, descended the stairs, and made his way to the dining hall for breakfast.
He ordered a plate of food and quietly ate at his table.
...
After finishing, he returned to his room, grabbed a notebook containing his investigation on 21 Dove Street, slipped it into his bag, and descended the stairs once more.
Tap...
Stepping out of the inn, he was met with a blanket of white snow covering the streets. A few people were shoveling away the accumulating snow, their breath visible in the cold air.
The sky was bright, but the Garam City's skyline was thick with gray smoke, blocking the sun.
Tap...
Arshen arrived at Greycloud Avenue, where merchants and tavern owners were busy preparing their wares.
He walked past them without sparing a glance, his pace steady, until he reached Eaglewood Bar. It was eerily quiet, its roof weighed down by snow.
Did I come too early?
Arshen thought with a little hesitation. He took out a watch from his pocket, the same watch he had taken on Dove Street.
Looking into the watch, he then pocketed it back and he pushed open the door, which was still unlocked.
Clack...
Inside, an old man with a thick moustache and long robe sat alone, methodically arranging a set of worn-out cards. The images on them depicted strange creatures—neither human nor beast, but something in between.
Arshen approached, his expression calm yet curious.
"Are those a cards?"
The old man barely looked up, continuing to shuffle the cards in his hands.
"Hmph... another one," he muttered under his breath before glancing at Arshen. His gaze was sharp, almost dismissive, but not entirely uninterested.
"And? What do you want?"
"Just curious," Arshen replied, his voice steady.
The old man exhaled through his nose, seemingly contemplating something. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he spread the cards out on the table.
"Arcantum Cards," he said flatly. "People use them for divination. Superstition. Or whatever nonsense they believe in."
Arcantum Cards?
Arshen's eyes flickered with interest. After a brief hesitation, he asked, "So, can you tell fortunes, sir?"
Wilheimer finally met his gaze, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence—then, a dry chuckle.
"Hah. Barely. But do you want me to?"
Arshen smirked, shaking his head. He leaned back, crossing his legs.
"I don't believe in fortune-telling. But I would like to see the cards."
Wilheimer studied him for a moment, then, with a faint smirk, pushed the deck toward him.
"Hmph. Interesting. Go ahead, take a look."
Arshen picked up the cards and examined them carefully.
There were 17 in total, each with its own name, numbered from negative eight to positive eight.
The negative-numbered cards depicted suffering, misfortune, and malevolence, while the positive ones symbolized virtue and prosperity.
But what caught his attention the most was the card numbered zero.
It depicted the silhouette of a figure sitting on a stone throne, Its neck extends and divides into seven heads, each with a different expression—angry, sad, smiling, empty, surprised, scared, and full of hatred.
The background is a dark sky with a violet moon shining dimly in the left corner and black flames coming out of cracks in the ground around the throne.
Right in the middle at the top there is the number Zero, while in the middle at the bottom there is a single word, which is written."Lore" Arshen muttered
This reminds me of the story of the seven sins and seven virtues from that world…
Wilheimer chuckled and said with a smile.
"An interesting card, another name is Throne of Balance, which represents the balance between the two types of cards."
Arshen carefully set the cards back in place and returned them to Wilheimer.
"Interesting. I wonder who created them."
Wilheimer chuckled, a dry, knowing sound, but before he could speak—
"Mr. Zodiac?!"
Arshen turned to see Leroy approaching, holding a letter.
Tap...
Leroy stopped beside him and handed him the letter. "Sorry for bothering you, but i have some letter for you."
Arshen frowned. "From whom?"
Leroy simply turned away and answered, "Your last mission. That's why you're here, isn't it?"
Arshen stared at the letter before tucking it into his coat. He glanced at Wilheimer one last time.
"As you can see, I have some business to attend to. How may I call you sir ?. Ah.., You can call me Zodiac, Zodiac Moriarty." He extended a hand.
Wilheimer scoffed but shook his hand anyway. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.
"Wilheimer. Just Wilheimer."
"Nice to meet you."
Wilheimer simply nodded, saying nothing more.
Without another word, Arshen stepped out of the Eaglewood Bar, pulling out the letter he had just received.
...
The address on the paper was one he had seen before. 93 Western Street. And beneath it, a name: Jonathan Louvern.
Louvern? Sounds like someone with a lot of money. But the fare to Western Street is too damn high... I only have a few pearls and silvers right now. Is this even enough? Thought Arshen who was frustrated.
Despite his frustration, he continued walking into the crowd on Greycloud Avenue.
Tap...
A bird perched on a tree branch. A man in a double brested leaned against the trunk beneath it. An old man, his back hunched under the weight of firewood, trudged past. A boy dashed through the streets. A horse trotted forward, pulling a carriage.
What a strange feeling. I don't know why, but..., i feel something was different.
Arshen took a deep breath and stepped forward, letting himself dissolve into the bustling crowd of Greycloud Avenue once again.