“Be careful!” Charlie urged from the bottom of the winding stairs that seemed to float through the air of the tilted tower.

“Yes, sir,” Henrietta replied absentmindedly, several stairs above him. She reached for a red book on a nearby shelf, but the shelf moved just out of reach as the stairs slowly turned about the room. She gave a sigh and furrowed her eyebrows, turning her attention to another stair above her, where Theodore was busy reading. “I don’t suppose this thing has an off switch?”

“Just wait for it to turn back around,” he said without looking back from his book. He had been sitting there for about half an hour, reading through various books as he passed them by on the stairwell. Henrietta found the stairs disorienting.

“There’s nothing wrong with building normal stairs. Plenty of people have normal stairs,” She grumbled, making her way back down one step at a time. The spinning motion made it difficult for one to descend. She was grateful, however, that despite the tilted angle of the tower, some magical force kept gravity working towards the floor. Otherwise, she was certain a whole shelf of books would have collapsed onto the ground.

Upon reaching solid ground, Henrietta decided to try her luck with the myriad of books scattered over the floor. Although there were several tall stacks of books, there were many simply laying about, half-read. Subjects from biology to alchemy lay all about the room, nearly burying the desk of the Court Sorcerer. Despite all of his magic, Henrietta was surprised he couldn’t conjure up a clean work space.

“You know, this investigation could be quite dangerous,” Henrietta said whilst lifting a book off the ground. “I’ll need some way to defend myself.”

“Oh, it will be dangerous, indeed,” Theodore called down from his step. “Vandenberg is a testament to that. He was likely either eaten or utterly destroyed. So we’re dealing with a ravenous beast or a very crafty man. Or both.”

“Protection is unnecessary,” Charlie stepped forward, basket in arm. “I am fitted for defensive measures.”

“Yes, and I am also a sworn servant of the crown. My oaths bind me to your protection,” Theodore chimed in.

“That’s all very well and good,” Henrietta said, brushing dust off her book. “But one of you is made of glass and the other told me once that magic requires preparation. Isn’t that correct?”

Theodore looked up from his book. He did recall a conversation he once had upon a visit from Henrietta. She would always pester him about his arcane studies, but in a moment of weakness, he would let some information slip. It was several months ago, but he could remember Henrietta asking him to entertain her with some basic spell or other. He brushed her request off, explaining how all magic required some form of setup. A circle of chalk, the right incantation, a hand symbol, or a material. There was no such thing as instant magic. It seemed now that he was regretting those words.

“Whatever the case--” He tried to argue, but Henrietta would not let him finish.

“The case doesn’t matter. I doubt Vandenberg’s assailant will be so courteous as to wait for you to draw some sigil on the floor before sending us to our Maker.”

“My maker was a rather frail old man named Vincent. You know, he was quite the remarkable--” Charlie began, with a raised finger to correct Henrietta. The two ignored his anecdote.

“So you wish for me to teach you magic, because my magic won’t save you?” Theodore laughed, standing up to begin walking down the stairs. “I don’t think so. You won’t trick me that easily. But, you do have a point. None of us are well prepared for a fight.”

“Thank you,” Henrietta said, lifting her chin with pride. Although it didn’t seem like she was getting what she wanted, she enjoyed being right. And she believed that she was, often. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“Well, if we are looking for some suitable protection,” Charlie stepped forward, narrowly avoiding an electronic candle floating past his head. “I may happen to know a couple of dens of experienced ne'er do wells. Perhaps we may garner some protective company with a bit of coin?”

“Are you suggesting we bring Her Highness to a tavern? We’ll more likely get our pockets picked and sent on our way than find anyone worth their salt with a pistol,” Theodore shook his head, stepping onto the floor and placing his book back in an empty slot of the shelf nearby.

“Not ‘Her Highness’. As of now, you may call me ‘Henry’,” Henrietta said with a large grin on her face. “Besides which, I believe dear Charlie has a point. We need someone with knowledge of the underbelly of Syllina and a sharp eye with a gun. I’m sure we can convince some ruffian to join our jolly crew.”

“They could be more dangerous than whatever had killed Vandenberg. Did you think about that?” Theodore crossed his arms, finding the whole notion utterly ridiculous. The underground of Syllina could be incredibly ruthless, but he doubted anybody who lived in the castle would know that. Still, Henrietta was not one to back away from danger.

“Fine, then. Don’t tag along if you’re frightened.” She mocked with a grin, turning back toward the door and ushering Charlie to follow. Theodore fumed in place, shocked at the sheer audacity.

“Frightened? Why I--” Theodore raised a finger into the air, while Poppy watched with an amused tilt of her head. “I am Theodore Gallagher, thirteenth sorcerer to the crown! I have peered into the darkest blotches of the night and witnessed horrors beyond comprehension! The powers I have seen and the arts I have mastered would make men fall to their knees in fear. Frightened! Ha!”

Henrietta only raised an eyebrow, with the smallest of smirks on her face. Despite his bravado, she remained unimpressed by his words. She found it a little humorous, but also quite a bit sad. She would never say it to his face, but he was more words than decision-making.

“And I am Henrietta Cullen, heir to the throne of Syllina, and, apparently, listener of speeches. If you are quite done, Mr. Gallagher, I suggest we get a move on. Adventure waits for no man.”