Did he believe in the gods? He had no recollection of his parents or their religious beliefs. But the Holy Inquisition was under the Church’s supervision, so would it make sense to be part of it yet not believe? He’d read the scriptures, and he’d been made to pray in the past, but since he’d turned nineteen, he hadn’t uttered a single prayer. Was it because he knew it would be a futile effort? He couldn’t imagine the Twins listening to every single person who prayed to them. And he knew that the majority of common people did pray and yet their lives were no better for it. The concept of deities was confusing to Tristan. What were they even supposed to be? Where had they come from? Why use them to explain the origin of the world if their own origin couldn’t be explained?
‘Hells. I broke him.’
Tristan looked at Verner. “I live to serve the Inquisition. My opinions don’t matter.”
“I expected a simple ‘yes.’ Your response makes me think you have some doubts.” Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but Verner raised a hand. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about such difficult things. But we must talk about something, so think of a subject you’re comfortable with.”
“We should decide how we’re going to approach the factory. Do we enter through the back? Bribe someone into letting us inside?”
Verner sighed. “Do you not know the concept of leisurely conversation?”
“I know the concept. Anyway, bribing someone is too risky because they might tell their superiors afterward. But if we enter through the back, we might still get caught. I suppose we could pretend to be looking for work?”
“If we weren’t wearing such fancy clothes, they might buy it. And if you didn’t have your little friend at your hip.”
“You’re right.”
“Although we could say that we’ve run into debt through gambling? It wouldn’t be so far-fetched. And the gun could be for protection from people we owe money.”
Tristan nodded. “If workers keep disappearing from these factories, they must be replaced with new ones all the time. But we might get recognized by someone if they have too much time to observe us. I can’t say I’ve been trying to be subtle when on duty.”
“This is where me being a vampire should help us. I can use compulsion. It works on most humans, and while the effect doesn’t last very long and I can’t use it too often, it should be enough to keep us from trouble.”
Looking down at the reins, Tristan said, “I don’t know how I feel about the idea of letting you do something like that.”
“Priorities, handsome. I won’t hurt anyone with this ability, and our investigation can save lots of people.”
“Fine.”
“Oh. You’re strangely agreeable today!”
“Don’t think too much of it, vampire.”
“I shall think what I wish to think.”
“Suit yourself.”
Verner chuckled before asking, “What will you name yourself for this undercover mission?”
“I—I don’t know. You come up with something.”
“First time pretending to be someone else, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so I’ll be Alec Daniels and you’ll be Theodore Sullivan. And I’ll call you Teddy.” Verner flashed a grin. “Cute.”
Tristan had told him to come up with a name, so he had to accept the result. “Fine.”
“So agreeable. My dear Teddy, you’ll be a soldier who returned from war recently and used gambling as a coping mechanism. As for me, I can act as a bankrupt merchant who used to trade in furniture. And we’re obviously friends.”
“Obviously.”
After reaching the factory, they left the horses with a groom, and Verner paid the boy to take good care of them. As Tristan and Verner approached the entrance to the factory, the two large men guarding it immediately focused their attention on them.
“What’s your business here, gentlemen?” one of them asked.
“We seek employment, sir,” Verner replied.
Both guards studied Verner and Tristan for a long moment, until the first one said, “Employment?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing,” Verner said, “but we have both made some poor life decisions, and we need to pay for them now.”
“Gambling,” Tristan added, feeling that perhaps he should say at least a single word.
“Ah.” The other guard nodded, an expression of sympathy on his face. “Everyone makes mistakes. I’m sure the manager will not say no to healthy workers.” His gaze dropped to Tristan’s belt. “I assume the cartridges in the belt mean there’s an accompanying revolver?”
Verner cleared his throat. “You can imagine how it is to owe some nasty people a lot of money.”
“I understand, but I will have to put the weapon away until you leave.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t just let these people take his revolver.
Verner must have quickly noticed his reluctance because he said, “Teddy, nothing will happen to it. I’m sure these gentlemen will handle it respectfully. Am I right?”
“Um, of course, sir,” the first guard replied. “We will put it in a safe and we’ll return it when you leave the factory.”
Tristan pushed the coat open and placed his hand on the grip of his revolver. The guards’ friendly expressions turned tense and suspicious.
“We really need work, Teddy.”
Tristan unbuckled his gun belt. He held the first guard’s gaze as he handed it to him. “It’s important to me,” he said.
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll place it in the safe immediately. You may enter now. Upstairs, first room on the left.”
As they walked down the corridor, Verner said, “That’s some intense relationship you have with that gun of yours.”
Tristan pointedly ignored the inane comment.
Verner glanced around before asking, “Is it the one you shot me with?”
“Yes. I don’t have any others. I’ve had it since I was sixteen.”
“Let me guess—a gift from the grand inquisitor?”
“No.”
“So how did you get it?”
“I got it like everyone else—when I finished my training.”
“Then the others have pretty much the same gun?”
“I’ve tinkered with mine. I would know if someone switched it for another.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it back.”
They entered a huge hall teeming with people so immersed in their work that few seemed to have noticed their arrival. There were steam-powered machines there, but some of the workers sat at large tables and worked without the aid of machinery. The air was filled with the smell of burning coal, heated metal, sweat, and other intense scents Tristan couldn’t identify.
At the end of the hall, they took the stairs. Verner knocked on the manager’s door, and they were invited inside.
The manager was a well-groomed, blond-haired man who appeared to be in his thirties. He greeted them politely, introducing himself as William Fox. With keen interest, he listened to Verner’s explanation for their presence, his blue gaze occasionally shifting toward Tristan.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said when Verner finished talking, “you both look like you can handle hard physical work, so you’re hired.” He stood up and walked to the wall in the back of the office. Five thin chains—each ending with a bell of a different color—hung from it, and they all went through holes in the wall. He pulled at the green bell of the middle chain, then returned to his desk, though he remained standing. “My assistant will show you the ropes.” He grinned as he shook their hands, and Tristan felt there was something off about his enthusiasm.
They left the office and went back downstairs, where a burly man with dark hair and a short mustache and beard greeted them.
“I’m Zane,” he said. “Please follow me. I will show you the living quarters. You may start working today and stay the night to be able to get back to work at dawn.”
“We haven’t brought our things, though,” Verner said. “Because we didn’t know if we would get hired.”
“We will provide you with fresh clothes and toiletries.”
“That’s… good to know,” Verner said, casting a knowing look at Tristan, to which Tristan nodded slightly. This was definitely suspicious.
The man led them to a small room with no windows. When the doors closed, the room began descending. An elevator. Some nobles had primitive ones installed in their mansions, but this one was most likely powered by steam.
When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, they walked into a large, poorly lit hallway.
“I assure you,” Zane said, “that the rooms look better than the corridor.”
“And it’s so quiet here because everyone is at work?” Verner asked.
“Precisely. You are our only new additions today.”
They reached a part of the hallway with steel doors on both sides. Zane stopped in front of the fifth door on the right and opened it. “Here,” he said. “Please look around the room and tell me if it’s okay.”
It was more than likely a trap. But since they were here to investigate, Tristan entered the room, and Verner immediately followed.
The room appeared normal. There were two bunk beds, two small tables, two chairs, and a closet.
“That door leads to the bathroom,” Zane said. “You’ll find the essentials there, but clothes will be brought in later.”
A howl from somewhere further down the hallway reached their ears.
“What was that?” Verner asked, although Tristan doubted that he didn’t know it had been a werewolf.
“Enjoy your stay,” Zane said before closing the door.
Verner tried the doorknob. “Locked. Not that I expected it not to be.” He repeatedly struck the door with the side of his fist, shouting, “Let us out, you bastards!” He then turned to Tristan and said, “You could do a bit of acting, too, Teddy.”
“There is no need.”
Verner let out an amused huff before he said, “Those bells—they tell Fox’s assistant what to do with the new arrivals?”
“Looks that way. Some people end up actually making watches, some are probably turned away, and as for the other bells—we must find out what they mean.”
“I hope it won’t take too long,” Verner said, sitting on the bed behind him. “Um, can you still hear my thoughts?”
Tristan recalled the last time he’d heard one. It seemed the effect was over, so he shook his head. “I haven’t heard any in a while. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason, Teddy,” Verner replied, avoiding eye contact.
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