“I am Andrei Beaulieu, a bounty hunter,” he said in a cordial manner. “I believe I have something Lord Nerelle wants back.” He showed the book held in his possession.

The butler seemed slightly confused at first, but after examining the book, he bowed his head slightly in embarrassment, “ah yes… of course. Please, follow me.”

The two men walked in, watching the servant close the door behind him. Extravagant furnishes decorated the manor, a gleaming silver chandelier hung in the entryway greeting all that entered. A deep purple carpet marked the way from the entrance to the stairs that led to more lavishly decorated hallways and rooms. Two corridors were on either side of them, stretching out undoubtedly to more expensive sights. Oil paintings of landscapes and young nobles lined the walls. The nobles’ faces, etched with boredom, contrasted sharply with the adventurous poses of other figures gazing over vast wildernesses or chaotic battlefields.

“All this was here, and Jean just stole a book?” Andrei thought to himself, “surely any of this would fetch a much better price…”

As the servant walked down the hallway on his right, he motioned the guests to follow him. More paintings and several busts of the nobles figures that lived in this opulent home years past decorated the halls. Eventually, the three arrived outside of a sturdy wooden door. A sconce was lit and decorated the wall next to it. Even from here, Andrei could smell the vast amount of books that rested on the other side. The servant slowly opened the door, the smell of musty books overwhelming him, leading the duo into a room with multiple bookshelves lining the wall, a map of The Scarred Lands tacked on the back wall. Near the back of the room, a large oak desk with various writing instruments strewn across it stood. Behind the desk, sitting in a chair, was an older man with short black, graying hair. He had a lengthy beard and a world-weary look on his slightly wizened face. His clothes showed he spared no expense. The noble was wearing fine, purple clothes, with gold embroidery decorating it. A golden lark emblem stitched on his shirt. Next to his desk was another guard who stared at Andrei with cold, blue eyes, patiently waiting for his master’s next command.

“I bring good news, my lord,” the servant began. “These men have the book that was stolen from you.”

The older man stood up from his chair curiously, “is that so? I would be most pleased if this is true. What is your name, bounty hunter?”

“Andrei Beaulieu, my lord. With me, I have my… ally, Emil Ildefons.” The two offered a short bow of respect. Though Andrei cared little for the etiquette of nobles, he knew it was one he must recognize, especially as one who carried the blood of Lílakdal in him. “You will find that the thief will bring you trouble, no longer.”

Once again, Andrei showed the book, holding it out in front of him. Lord Nerelle looked at the book, then at the servant, giving a small nod to the elf. The servant nodded back, taking the book from Andrei and walking over to his master, passing the book off to him. Nerelle flipped the pages and studied it closely, as if checking for any damages. Once he had gone through it, he appeared satisfied, closing the book and returning his gaze to Andrei.

“I trust the thief wasn’t too much of a hassle for you two. You look capable of handling yourself…” his gaze wandered between the book and his guests. Andrei could practically see a flame light above his head as he seemed to remember a critical part of this transaction. “Yes, of course. How could I forget?” The lord chuckled softly to himself before nodding again to the servant. “See that these men get their reward, Fin.”

The man bowed in acknowledgment, and looked ready to leave the room, but Andrei’s curiosity got the best of him. “Before we leave, if I may ask, the only thing stolen from you was a book, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.” The man looked somewhat suspicious by Andrei’s line of questioning. “Why do you ask?”

Andrei shook his head. “It just seemed like a lot of money for a book, that’s all.” Andrei liked, not wanting to reveal the strange eye in his bag, “I apologize if I overstepped.”

Lord Nerelle chuckled again, his eyes darting between Andrei and Fin, who seemed to tense up more with each passing glance. “This book contains the thoughts of my ancestors, it likely means little to most people,” he sighed, glancing over to his guard before returning his gaze to Andrei, “why would a common thief want it… I am unsure… but that matters little now. Thank you both again for retrieving this. It means more than you know. Fin will compensate you on your way out. Farewell, bounty hunters.” The man turned away from the guests, perusing some shelves behind him.

As Andrei gave one last bow of respect, Fin led the way back towards the foyer, the two bounty hunters following him close behind. As the three stood at the entrance, Fin produced a small pouch from his back pocket, handing it to Andrei. The contents of the pouch clinked together and Emil smiled with glee.

“Here is your payment. You will find all the gold pieces accounted for,” Fin considered the two with wandering eyes. “Should Lord Nerelle or any other house need help again, I will bring you two up again.”

The two offered their thanks, heading out of the manor and past the gate and guards. Andrei took the coin purse and split the profit, handing half over to Emil, who gladly shoved it in his own bag with glee. Andrei wondered if the eye had beckoned Jean to steal the book. If that was true, this led to more questions. How did he get the eye? Does it grant hidden knowledge? What does that mean for Andrei’s illusion?

As the two walked around the tall, well-manicured buildings, Andrei thought of his next steps. He quickly slid into one of the dark alleys of the street, Emil close behind him, and carefully opened his bag. His hand hesitated as he slowly reached for the eye. Once again, Andrei felt entranced by the whispers. He stared at it for what felt like hours as his peripheral vision faded away into a black void, only to fill slowly with that same unfamiliar landscape. Suddenly, Emil yelled out in concern, breaking his concentration. As his view returned to normal, he spotted his own dagger in his spare hand, aimed upwards towards his own eye. He gasped in shock before shoving the eye back in his bag. He knew he had to get this thing off his hands, and quickly. Luckily, the two were close to the enchanter’s shop, and if they were even luckier, the workers there would know what to do with it.