The dim glow of the tavern's lanterns flickered as the girl slipped out into the night, leaving Zaiden alone with his thoughts. He glanced down at Loki, slumped over the table, his breath heavy with the scent of ale. With a sigh, Zaiden hoisted the man onto his shoulders, his steps steady despite the weight. The streets were quiet as he made his way to the printing press, the rhythmic clatter of machinery echoing faintly in the distance. Handing Loki over to one of the staff, Zaiden muttered, "He's had too much to drink. Keep an eye on him."
As he turned to leave, a familiar voice called out from behind. "Hey! Zaiden."
He spun around, his eyes narrowing before recognition softened his features. "Oh, it's you, Fenrir."
Fenrir grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Long time, no see."
Zaiden nodded, his tone measured. "Yes, it's been a while. What's new with you?"
"Nothing much," Fenrir replied, shrugging. "Just working. Where are the others?"
"Everyone's busy these days," Zaiden said, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "I've got work tomorrow, so I should head home. We'll catch up another time."
Fenrir chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Alright then, busy teacher. See you around."
With a final nod, Zaiden turned and disappeared into the shadows, his figure blending seamlessly with the night.
---
Meanwhile, at Duke Avantes' temporary residence, the air was thick with tension. The Duke sat in his study, his fingers drumming impatiently on the polished oak desk. Across from him stood Lei, a shadow corps investigator, her expression calm but her eyes sharp with focus.
"Lei," the Duke began, his voice clipped, "how did the investigation go today?"
Lei inclined her head slightly. "Not much progress, Your Grace. Helmond is conducting inquiries within Count Mansion, questioning the workers and knights. However, I doubt the assassin who targeted the Viscount's family came from within."
The Duke's brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"
"The Viscount had only one son, the clear heir to the family," Lei explained. "But he's currently studying at the Royal Academy and shows little interest in the title, according to those close to him. The other relatives are merchants overseas. The Viscount was a kind man, not one to provoke revenge. It doesn't add up."
The Duke leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening. "Then who could be behind this? We need answers quickly. His Majesty is preparing to crown the Grand Duke soon, and if I fail to resolve this matter, my position could be at risk."
Lei's voice remained steady. "We're pursuing every lead, Your Grace. One detail stands out: Count Waylond and the Viscount had a heated argument some time ago, though the reason remains unclear. We're working to uncover the truth."
The Duke's lips pressed into a thin line. "Do it swiftly. Time is not on our side."
Lei hesitated for a moment before adding, "By the way, Your Grace, I encountered Zaiden Styx at the tavern earlier."
The Duke's eyes narrowed. "Zaiden? The one from the deceased Marquess family? What's he doing here? I haven't heard of him since he left the Royal Academy."
"He was with a man named Loki, who works at the printing press," Lei replied. "They were drinking together. Zaiden now teaches at a commoner's school."
The Duke's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained cautious. "I see. He may be a fallen noble, but don't underestimate him. He still holds some influence in the capital."
Lei nodded. "Understood, Your Grace."
"Solve this case quickly," the Duke said, rising from his seat. "I'll be returning home tomorrow. Remember, we're running out of time."
With a final bow, Lei turned and left the room, her mind already racing with plans and possibilities.
---
In the distance, at the Viscount's manor, Helmond, the other shadow corps investigator, moved through the halls with quiet precision. The air was heavy with the lingering scent of tragedy, the once-grand home now a shell of its former self. He stood in the main hall, addressing the guards and maids with a commanding presence.
"What happened that night?" Helmond demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. "I want every detail, no matter how small."
The butler stepped forward, but Helmond raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. Instead, he pointed to one of the maids. "You. Tell me."
The maid hesitated, her hands trembling as she spoke. "That night, after dinner, the Viscount and his wife retired to their room. The young lady went to her chamber to study. We finished our duties and went to bed as well. In the morning, when no one had risen, Elyna went to check on them. She found the Knight Captain's body and screamed. When we rushed to the room, we discovered the Viscount, his wife, and the young lady… all dead."
Helmond's expression remained impassive as he listened, though his mind was already piecing together the fragments of the story. He moved to the room where the murders had taken place, his sharp eyes scanning for any trace of the killer. The scene was meticulously clean, too clean for an ordinary assassin. Whoever had done this was no amateur. Helmond's jaw tightened as he realized the truth: the person behind this was no commoner. This was the work of someone with power, someone from the nobility.
As he stood in the silent room, the weight of the investigation settled heavily on his shoulders. The killer was out there, hidden among the shadows of the elite, and it was up to him to drag them into the light.
The investigation at the Viscount's manor yielded little, and Helmond soon departed to report his findings to Duke Avantes. The Duke listened intently, his expression grim, before retiring for the night. He needed rest; tomorrow would demand his full attention as he prepared to return home.
Meanwhile, in a modest yet refined house at the heart of Yewis, Zaiden sat by the flickering light of a candle, engrossed in a book. The quiet of the night was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Setting the book aside, Zaiden rose and opened the door to find Fenrir standing there.
"Why are you here?" Zaiden asked, his tone neutral.
Fenrir grinned. "Tomorrow, after sunset, meet us at the tavern. Jarlath's back. We're having a gathering."
Zaiden sighed. "Fine, I'll be there. Now, if that's all…"
Fenrir shook his head. "Why are you always like this?"
Without another word, Zaiden closed the door and returned to his studies. Soon after, he retired for the night, the promise of the gathering lingering in his mind.
The next morning, Zaiden followed his usual routine, teaching at the commoner's school before returning home. As the hours passed, he prepared himself for the evening's event. When the time came, he made his way to the tavern, the familiar sounds of laughter and clinking glasses greeting him as he stepped inside.
Loki's voice boomed across the room. "Hey, Zaiden! What's up? Come over here!"
Zaiden moved slowly, his calm demeanor contrasting with the lively atmosphere. Before he could reach Loki, a hand clasped his shoulder. "Been a while, Zaiden," a deep voice said.
Zaiden turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, so you finally showed up, Jarlath."
Loki's eyes widened. "Jarlath! You're here!"
Jarlath chuckled. "I've got a surprise, too. Hey, come in."
A woman stepped forward, her presence commanding attention. Her brown hair shimmered in the tavern's light, and her smile was radiant. "Hi! What's up, guys?"
Loki practically leaped toward her, grabbing her arms. "Keres! It's been forever!"
Jarlath rolled his eyes. "This womanizer never changes."
Fenrir raised his tankard. "What a day! Let's enjoy it."
Zaiden nodded. "Well, since it's been so long, we might as well make the most of it."
Fenrir grinned. "Not just for a while—we're going all out tonight."
As the group settled in, Zaiden turned to Keres. "What have you been up to these days?"
She shrugged. "Nothing much. By the way, how's the printing press going, Loki? Fenrir?"
Loki waved a hand dismissively. "Same as always."
Zaiden's gaze shifted. "Where's Iris these days?"
Fenrir answered, "She's in the capital for work."
"I see," Zaiden replied, his tone thoughtful.
The night wore on, filled with laughter, stories, and the clinking of glasses. Eventually, Zaiden excused himself and headed home, leaving the others to continue their revelry. Loki, as usual, stumbled out of the tavern, shouting incoherently as Fenrir and the others guided him toward the printing press, where they would spend the night. The echoes of their laughter faded into the night, a fleeting moment of camaraderie in a world that rarely paused for such joys.