At last, the carriage pulled up in front of Charles's home. Joseph offered to escort him all the way to the front door. As Charles was about to step down from the carriage, Mrs. Wilson, his neighbor, emerged from her own house. She wore a light green dress trimmed with white lace, covered by a floral-embroidered apron. Her white hair was pinned neatly in a bun at the back of her head, and a warm smile lit her face upon seeing Charles and Joseph.

"Oh, Master Joseph," Mrs. Wilson greeted them brightly as she approached. "Bringing Charles home, are you?"

Joseph greeted her politely, "Good evening, Mrs. Wilson. I hope you're well. I had a bit of business to discuss with him, so I thought I might as well drop him off."

Mrs. Wilson nodded, then turned a fond smile on Charles.
"Charles is lucky indeed to have such a good friend. Landlords aren't always this kind or concerned about their tenants. I'm quite impressed by Master Joseph's generosity."

Charles accepted her praise with a grin, giving a small nod. "I feel exactly the same way. I'm fortunate to have someone so dependable."

Under the wavering glow of the streetlamps, Mrs. Wilson beamed even more. She reached into the pocket of her apron and drew out a cream-colored envelope, offering it to Joseph.

"Here's this month's rent, Master Joseph. No point in making anyone travel back and forth just to collect it, right?"

"You needn't go to so much trouble," Joseph protested, but nonetheless accepted the envelope. "It's no trouble for me, but I do appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Oh, it's no bother at all," Mrs. Wilson said with a dismissive wave. Then she turned back to Charles. "But I won't take more of your time now, especially if you two have important matters to discuss. I'll be going in—see you later."

She smiled once more at both men, waved goodbye, then headed off. Joseph and Charles watched her retreat with fond expressions, reflecting on her kindness.

"She truly is a thoughtful lady," Joseph remarked. "You've got a wonderful neighbor."

"I think so, too," Charles agreed. But then his face clouded, a trace of worry creeping in.

Joseph caught the change in his friend's expression. "Something on your mind?"

"Just trying to figure out what to do next," Charles admitted. "The dreams, the clue suggesting I might be from Sarnia… That's all I have. One part is still unclear, and the other part—traveling there—will cost more money than I currently have."

Joseph offered, "I can lend you the funds, if that's what you need."

But Charles shook his head firmly. "You've helped me enough already. You leased this house to me at a generous rate, looked after me when I'd just lost my memory…"

"But—"

"No," Charles repeated, voice resolute. "I really must decline."

Seeing his friend's determination, Joseph didn't press further. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on Charles's shoulder. "Then all I can do is cheer you on. There might be other leads we've overlooked, so don't lose hope."

Deeply appreciative, Charles smiled softly. "Thank you."

They bade each other a warm goodnight. Joseph climbed back into the carriage and waved one last time from the window, then rolled off into the darkness. Charles watched him go until the vehicle disappeared from sight.

Standing there under the flickering glow of the streetlamps, Charles let out a sigh before heading inside. His mind still spun with everything that had happened. Yet physical exhaustion overwhelmed his thoughts, and he prayed he might sleep soundly. He dropped onto his bed, letting weariness claim him as consciousness ebbed away.

Somewhere else in the capital, Joseph rode through the quiet streets toward his family's estate. He sat in deep contemplation within the carriage, thoughts churning over all Charles had told him. Suddenly, Joseph jolted upright, eyes snapping open in alarm.

"Driver," he called out in a steady tone, "take me to the office first. There's something important I need to handle."

"Right away, sir," the coachman replied, guiding the carriage in a different direction.

They halted in front of a two-story marble building. A carved sign bore the name of the office, centered around an emblem: two crossed swords against a black shield, symbolizing their mission to protect the kingdom from lurking threats.

Joseph alighted and paused, gazing up at the edifice before striding in. The heavy wooden doors squeaked, revealing a corridor steeped in silence. Only his footsteps echoed on the floor. Dim lanterns along the walls cast faint, flickering light.

He made his way down a route he knew well, passing dark offices whose occupants had long since gone home for the night. Only Joseph remained, pressing on with his late-hour duties.

Reaching a room on the second floor, he paused to lift his lamp and knocked three times.

"Who's there?" rumbled a low, firm voice from within—grave, yet not unfriendly.

"It's Joseph," he answered, his tone respectful but familiar.

"Come in," came the permission.

Joseph pushed the door open. The room was lit more brightly than the corridor, revealing a large desk stacked with documents and tall bookshelves lining the walls. In the center stood a red leather sofa with matching cushions arranged neatly.

Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man with streaks of gray-brown in his hair. His face bore the lines of age, but his dark-blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and resolve. He was tall and well-built, though obviously older. A thin scar traced across one cheek, a memento from days gone by.

"Sir, I have something crucial to report," Joseph announced, voice unwavering.

The older man nodded toward the chair opposite him, inviting Joseph to sit. His tone was cordial as he said, "It's just us right now—no need for formalities."

He leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "Go ahead. What's on your mind?"

"I uncovered some new information regarding the matter you asked me to investigate," Joseph said directly. Even though he spoke candidly, his tone retained clear deference. The man before him was Edward Cavendish, head of the unit Joseph worked for.

Edward's brows drew together with keen interest. His hands folded, and he leaned toward Joseph, listening intently. "By all means—every detail."

After a moment to compose himself, Joseph recounted what he'd learned from Charles about the recent case: the maid's revenge, how the threads ran deeper than they first seemed. He omitted anything about villagers' strange illnesses, the ergot poisoning, and the bizarre maritime events Charles had described, deeming them outside Edward's immediate purview.

Edward listened, face inscrutable. Once Joseph finished, the room fell silent, the tension palpable. Finally, Edward's quiet baritone broke through:

"It's quite the coincidence…"

"I had the same thought," Joseph agreed, frowning slightly. "Especially when you factor in how Charles's actions got the city guard involved over there in the first place."

Edward nodded slowly, lost in his own thoughts. He stared off for a moment, then turned back to Joseph.

"A coincidence that suspicious can't be dismissed. We'll need a thorough discussion."

Joseph nodded. "Yes, sir. We should hold a meeting tomorrow morning. I'll collect the rest of the intel and make sure everyone is ready."

They spent a while longer strategizing, connecting the fragments they did have. Though crucial pieces were still missing, they were certain they were chasing something far from ordinary.

Eventually, Edward forced aside his thoughts with a weary sigh. "It's late. Get some rest for now, Joseph. We'll take this up again in the morning meeting. Don't be late."

Joseph rose, noticing a faint ghost of a smile on Edward's otherwise serious features—just enough to offer some encouragement. He bowed his head slightly in farewell and exited. His footsteps echoed down the silent hall, just as they had on arrival. Outside, he drew a deep breath of the cool night air, letting the chill wind ease his tension.

Still waiting where he'd left it, his carriage carried him at last to the Cavendish family's estate in the inner royal district. Gazing out the window, he saw the capital's nighttime streets bleak in the sparse lamplight, most citizens tucked away indoors.