Present: 24 Years Old
Eblin was pretty sure he was in bed when he fell into a deep sleep. So for a second, he doubted his memory when he woke up on the floor with his blankets, pillow, and mattress strewn at awkward angles. All of it tangled around him among the rest of the mess in the room.
Then he looked up and his mind cleared instantly.
Jacques glared down at him, leaning on his cane as he bent over the younger man.
Behind Jacques, Eblin could see Roryce leaning in the doorway, arms crossed. He shot his friend a glare, and Roryce shrugged, as if to say, What do you want me to do about it?
“You lost your cover.”
Eblin returned his attention to the old man and relaxed. With a careless shrug, he stretched his arms above his head and exaggerated a yawn. He didn’t have to exaggerate too hard; he was still blinking sleep from his consciousness as he rolled himself into a cross-legged sit. With the floor covered in trash and objects, it was not a comfortable sit.
“I got everything I could from them.”
Jacques made to hit Eblin with the end of his cane, but Eblin dodged it by jerking back, hitting his head on the upturned mattress.
“We spent months fabricating that identity,” the old man growled. “Do you think you can throw it away like garbage at the end of it all? It was supposed to last you years, not weeks!”
The old man was furious, and Eblin grimaced briefly before chuckling and standing. He patted the old man on the shoulder. “Want breakfast? We don’t have access to the kitchen—” Roryce snorted agreement “—But the dining room downstairs is excellent.”
“Breakfast was over two hours ago.”
“I’m sure they’d be willing to whip us up something. You’re paying, right, Roryce?”
His friend narrowed his eyes. “Why am I paying?”
“Because you have money. Give me a minute to get changed.”
“Boy, you’re avoiding the issue,” Jacques growled as Eblin pushed around the mess with his foot until he found the shirt he was looking for. The old man slammed his cane into the floor, the effect muted by the book he encountered instead of wood flooring. “I told you to be careful. I told you not to run that mouth of yours.”
“My mouth is what got me the information.”
Eblin shook out the shirt. With a quick spell, the smell vanished and he pulled it on over his head.
“That mouth of yours will get you killed one day. I thought your bones would be discovered somewhere when you didn’t report in last night.”
Eblin paused then lifted a pant leg, revealing not only a bare foot but what looked like twine around his ankle. “Roryce has kindly made sure that that wouldn’t happen.”
The old man swung his cane again, and because of the mess, Eblin didn’t have room to dodge without tripping. His shoulder ached, and he rubbed it ruefully as he carefully took a step back. When Jacques regained his stance, he spoke in cold, smooth tones.
“Your apprenticeship just grew by two years. I also expect you to begin creating a new identity. Immediately. And you.” The old man rounded on Roryce. “You two are slobs. Get someone in here to clean up.”
“Yes, sir,” said Roryce obediently. Just as he had the last time Jacques made the same demand.
“Get your things and meet me in the office.”
Jacques didn’t even look back as he stomped past Roryce and down the steps. There was a clattering and muffled clumping that accompanied him as he pushed things off the stairs and kicked other things around.
Neither of the young men said anything until the front door slammed.
“Why’d you let him in?”
Roryce shrugged. “Did you want breakfast?”
“Nah. I have a case of indigestion.”
“Symptoms include stomach pain, headaches, and property damage. It’s not poisoning if you invited it.”
Eblin snorted a laugh and held up his hands in surrender. “Point taken! I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back.”
Roryce rolled his eyes and turned his back on Eblin, walking away as he called over his shoulder. “I’ll believe that when I see it. If you change your mind about breakfast, tell Madam Tuel to charge my room. I’m going back to work.”
Despite the rude awakening, it was a pleasant walk.
Early enough to avoid the mid-day heat and young enough that when he passed through the markets, the fruit stalls were still full. Barely pausing, he tossed a coin at a vendor—one familiar with his oddities—and snatched up two apples as he passed.
By the time he reached the office, he’d done this trick twice and walked in while chewing on a baguette.
Despite the shelves of books, the line of oak filing cabinets on the back wall, and an open doorway peeking into an adjacent lab, Jacques kept an immaculate work space. Nothing was out of place. And the old man looked up from his desk to scowl at Eblin as the man strolled through, dusting crumbs as he went.
“Well? Are you going to clean that up?”
Eblin waved a hand and the crumbs zipped out the one large window. “Did you get my package?”
“Package?”
“One moment.”
Eblin put the baguette on his desk—a much smaller desk compared to the monstrosity his mentor sat at—and pulled on the bottom, larger drawer. It protested, forcing him to wiggle it until whatever was jammed finally gave way.
Inside was an array of odds and ends from his trade.
A small book of printed spells, nearly useless now that he’d ripped out so many pages, was jammed beside the larger, more intimidating Official Empirical Guidebook of Investigations, edition two. He shoved aside pencils of varying lengths, other gadgets, and the broken, never-ending pen Roryce had given him. The sigil reader winked faintly in the light as his hand finally found the mana detector and signature reader, wrapped in cloth in the back corner. He absently unfolded the mana detector and slid it into his pocket. That was the only way he’d remember to get it fixed.
“Not here,” he muttered, closing the drawer and opening the top one.
This held a stack of forms and more pencils. Some forms were smudged with carbon; others only half-filled. The finished reports were safely filed away, but he didn’t dare throw out the ruined copies while Jacques was watching. No need to invite a scolding.
Finally, by shifting the globe map of the city on his desk, he found the papers he’d sent by magic the night before, tucked beneath the base.
“Here it is!” he said triumphantly, plopping the handful of papers on Jacques’ desk.
“You would have found it sooner if you cleaned up the mess,” the older man grumbled as he picked up Eblin’s offering. He took an extra second to put on his glasses, which had been hanging around his neck, then began to read in silence.
Eblin grinned and folded his arms, leaning back on one foot as he waited for Jacques to finish his inspection. While he waited, he looked around, letting his mind travel back to the night before.
What was she doing now?
The woman had been intriguing. He’d never seen anyone run at a demon when they could bolt instead. Was it cute or amusing that she’d wanted to save him? He wished he’d gotten a good look at her face. What little light there’d been in the alley hadn’t been enough to give him more than an overall impression.
If he was lucky, she’d come on Wednesday. But, his people instincts told him that she’d been bemused by him rather than endeared. It could go either way.
“This is good.” The old man thoughtfully lowered the papers. “Names, locations, and shipment dates.”
“Enough to call in the City Guard?”
For a moment, Jacques tapped his desk with one long, thin finger, leaning his head back as he thought.
“We’ll have to inform the Prefect.”
Eblin frowned. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Not… necessarily… We don’t know how these pitt rats have been getting their information. The more people who know, the more likely we’ll end up with empty warehouses and dead witnesses.”
“Then what should we do? Call the Guard and forget the Prefect for now?”
Jacques continued tapping for a few more seconds, then finally stilled. “No. Since the Prefect is the one who brought us in, we’ll need to handle this differently. We’ll ask the Prefect for the Imperial Knightage to perform the raid instead.”
“Isn’t that outside their jurisdiction?”
“If this were a matter involving just Evelyn, then we’d arrange a raid, tell the Guard when to show up, and go. Since it’s been all over the Empire, we’ll be toeing the line but not crossing it.” Jacques stood up. “Frankly, it’s safer bureaucratically for us to do it this way, even if it gets the Regent in a foul mood.”
Jacques picked up the pile of papers and started around his desk, snatching up his cane as he went.
Eblin visibly grimaced even as he laughed.
“A part of me is delighted by the idea of pissing him off.”
Jacques, now fully around his desk, made a swipe at Eblin with his cane, causing the younger man to jump nimbly out of the way.
“And the wiser part knows that’s foolish. Come, we’ll see the Prefect now and make the arrangements. We have—” Jacques glanced at the papers, flipping through after leaning his cane on his leg. “Three days until the next shipment.”
“That’s not a lot of time.”
“Which is why we’re not wasting any. And don’t think I didn’t notice you stuffing that thing in your pocket. We’ll stop by the artificer on the way back.” The old man lowered his voice to growl, “Then you can finally give me back my detector.”
Eblin chuckled sheepishly. “Yes, sir.”
The Prefect’s office was within the local palace. Technically, the palace was for the Emperor’s use. But in the absence of the Emperor—whose last visit was over ten years prior—it, its outbuildings, and its grounds were being used as an administrative center. And, as a minor subnote, housing for the Prefect.
Jacques made the official report and did all the talking as they planned the raid. Meanwhile, Eblin opened his side pouch and began rifling through.
He pulled out a notebook, opening it on his knee with another (working) unending pen poised in one hand.
To ensure his notes were legible as well as fast, he used magic to write. This gave him more control over the pen than his own hand could, although it didn’t help his artwork look less like a child’s scrawl.
“Did you hear that, boy?”
Eblin looked up from his doodling. “What?”
Jacques sighed and rubbed his temple as he turned back to the Prefect. “Forgive my apprentice,” he said, voice strained.
“What is there to forgive?” Maris Ashwynn wore a stern expression, steepling her fingers on the desk as she looked solemnly at Jacques. However, when Eblin met her eye briefly, he sensed her amusement. “I apologize, Mister Trovinski. We were being rude and not including you as we ought.”
Eblin left his pen floating on the open book as he held up both hands. “It’s fine. I didn’t have anything to say that isn’t already in front of you.”
“You made a copy of this, yes?”
“Considering the time constraint, I thought it would be best to bring it to you right away,” Jacques said smoothly, miffed that one of his own bureaucratic rules had been broken by the necessity.
“Then I will have a copy made and sent back to you before the day is over. Now, three days will be the raid. I was asking, Mister Trovinski, if you’d be willing to participate?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good.” The Prefect stood up. “I’ll see the both of you in three days.”
They didn’t speak again until they were outside the palace grounds, well out of the guards’ eyesight. And it started with Jacques smacking Eblin in the back of the leg.
“Ow! What was that for?” Eblin hopped on one leg as he bounced away and dramatically grimaced.

Comments (3)
See all