27 March 1686 of the 6th Era, Passiflora Road, East District

  They left the room and started walking towards the wide ornate staircase. Charlotte observed the changed surroundings with interest: while she had no trouble seeing in the dark, the bright sun rays shining through the sheer curtains (what is it about these people and lack of proper means to block out the sun? Though perhaps it has something to do with barely getting any light during the winter months…) definitely changed her opinion of this house for the better, adding luster to the otherwise very reserved interior and showing that there were intricate floral and avian designs with little swashes of gold painted on the walls.

  And yet, Charlotte couldn’t shake off the feeling that there could be, or perhaps even should be much more in terms of decor. She expected, but failed to see moulding or painted ornaments on the ceilings. There were no wooden panels with intricate designs that were nowadays so popular in human aristocratic households. No suits of armour, either, and barely any vases. She examined the surroundings, realising to her surprise that there was only one oil painting in this long corridor clearly meant to be perused by guests of the house, and important ones at that, seeing that it also led to the main dining room and a spacious hall probably used to host larger banquets and perhaps even balls at some point. Obviously, she had not been to many houses in Enua, but if her mother’s and Ethan’s stories were to be believed, this was most definitely an outlier.

  “Your father was not one to care for works of art, I take it?” Her curiosity finally got the better of her.

  “Oh, well, he,” Lord Simon Welz awkwardly gestured. “My mother used to be the one in charge of seeing to the interior. After she passed away, the house underwent a large renovation, to keep up with the times, but after that my father just… How should I put it? Marcus is very much like him. Brutally honest to a fault, only bothers to show any manners when it really matters, such as when meeting Lord Blackwater or Lady Greenforest. Not her husband though.”

  “How come?”

  “He’s a commoner,” he stated simply, his tone not betraying what he thought of the matter. “I believe he used to own a flower store or something to that effect.

  “I’ll admit that I, too, found it odd that he left the house half-finished. It’s not like my father never cared about appearances,” he continued as they began climbing up the stairs. “This foyer for example. He personally saw to the arrangement of the paintings on the walls, and ordered the parquet painted,” Charlotte looked back, acknowledging this little detail, while her host continued, “He was also very particular about his study. The rest of the house, however, he just ordered some things to be put here and there and was done with it. Lost enthusiasm.”

  “There’s a lot of space to cover, so it doesn’t surprise me. Especially if he wanted to start from scratch in order to make the place seem more modern,” she politely nodded.

  “You don’t have such qualms, do you?”

  “I’m a sylph, Lord Welz,” she briefly stopped and ran her fingers along the polished wooden railing. “Our perception of time differs from most species. What you view as half a lifetime, we consider no longer than an afternoon. This is also how we view fashion. Imagine changing your whole wardrobe every five minutes, or fully renovating the house every ten days or so.”

  “A friend of mine who happens to be a dusk elf also said something similar when I commented on the furniture in his study,” Lord Welz laughed heartily. “Can’t say I can imagine what it feels like, but I’m always curious to hear different perspectives.”

  “Makes us better people,” Charlotte agreed. “If you don’t mind me asking, what were the rules that you had to follow before all of this began?”

  “Oh, right,” Lord Simon Welz covered his face, realising he never explained that little, but probably crucial detail. “The rules were rather simple, to be honest. Don’t leave any door open. Always knock before entering, even if there is no one there.”

  “Ah. Your butler did so when he led me to the sitting room,” now that was one mystery solved.

  “Everyone was told to follow them, so it doesn't surprise me. For him it’s probably a force of habit at this point,” he acknowledged. “Now… When walking down a corridor, always look behind you before entering a room. Before descending the stairs, touch the railings twice. Make sure there’s a couple of sweets at the front door at any given time,” he chuckled. “Never drink water from a glass that’s been left on the table for longer than thirty minutes, and don’t drink any beverage left in a room, even if you had to leave it for but a second.”

  “All of these sound rather reasonable, if maybe hinting at paranoia. Wouldn’t surprise me seeing that he’s been to the Eastern Archipelago.”

  “This is why we stopped following them. However, there was one more, a bit baffling. Do not open the curtains during the night. Always have at least five candles lit when in a room in the evening, and extinguish them in order they were lit before going to bed. Keep the last candle you put out on your bedside table, and always check if it’s still the same size as it was before you fell asleep.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “We were to tell him immediately. Obviously no such thing ever happened, and I didn’t find anything about this in his notes when I looked through his belongings. Unless you know the answer, it will forever remain a mystery.”

  “First time I hear of such a ritual,” she shook her head. “Did you have to follow this set of rules in this house only?”

  “Thankfully, yes. This is the room,” Lord Simon stopped, knocked on the door, his cheeks becoming somewhat red, then pushed it open.

  Charlotte calmly walked inside, while the man remained next to the entrance, observing her actions with curiosity. Without saying a word, she ran her fingers along the back of the chair, for a brief moment leaving a thin layer of frost.

  “Which corner did it end up in?”

  “Over there,” he pointed to the opposite side of the room, to a spot under the window.

  She examined that, for some reason leaning slightly to inspect the walls, then just as calmly walked back to Lord Simon, “I’d like to see the other rooms, too.”

  “Of course. Found anything interesting?”

  “Too early to say,” she looked back, staring into the empty space. “There might be something, but I fail to see why it would manifest itself now. Those rules aren’t exactly… Let’s just say none of them sound like something to ward off an unruly spirit. Apart from the ‘keep some sweets in a certain place’ one. Do you know if it was your father who created the ruleset or was this something handed down from one generation to the next?”

  “My grandfather died when I was three years old, and while I was curious as to the origins of the tradition, I never was curious enough to ask my father about it. We don’t have any servants old enough to remember, either, I am afraid.”

  “And Mr Brook has only worked with your father.”

  “Indeed. Come to think of it, Mrs Greeves, our old housekeeper, should know,” he brightened up a bit. “She retired three years ago, though, and I’m not sure if she’s still alive.”

  “If she is, hopefully she won’t mind me asking a few questions on your behalf. Do you at least have an address?”

  “I don’t, but Mr Fincke should,” Lord Simon said confidently. “I’ll ask him to provide it for you.”

  “I would be grateful.”

  They walked through the other rooms, and Charlotte duly examined each and every one of them, becoming more and more confused in the process. Sometimes, she’d quietly utter a word, or make an elaborate gesture, and once she even kneeled to seemingly pet something. At one point, she ushered Lord Simon out of the room, closing the door in his face, and he heard her talk to herself for a minute or two. Or, perhaps, to someone he couldn’t see? However, when Lord Simon asked her for an explanation, she only shook her head and urged him to continue showing her around.

  Having finally finished, the two of them returned to the sitting room to find Lord Marcus Welz dozing off in his armchair, coddled by the fires and hugging a half empty bottle of cognac.

  “Finally back,” he stretched, sitting upright. “Found anything? Or are you about to let us know that this is a waste of time and we should really dial back on booze?”

  “Marcus, your vocabulary…”

  “I’ve heard way worse,” she couldn’t hold back a sigh this time. “You’re a man of few words, so I’ll try to follow your example. There is, indeed, a bit of an issue with this house. Simply put, it reeks of death.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Not in the direct sense of the word,” she calmed him down. “Something happened here – and I don’t necessarily mean your father’s murder – to start attracting spirits. I saw a ghost of a cat, a small kid, and an elderly lady. The latter introduced herself as your great grandmother, by the way. What I don’t understand is how all of the clerics before me failed to notice any of them.”

  “Are they all still here?” Lord Simon became very pale, and his brother silently passed him a glass.

  “Not in this room. Has your father really, truly not told either of you why you had to follow all of those rules?”

  “Only that something bad would happen if we don’t,” Lord Marcus scratched his chin, downing half a glass of the beverage in one go. “You think this is connected?”

  “That’s what’s puzzling. The situation here is… The rules your father set for you have nothing to do with it. Simply not following them should not have caused this, unless there’s some hidden ritual within that ruleset that prevented it from happening. I might need to scour the archives to be certain.”

  “And what do we do in the meantime?”

  “It’s not terrible right now if you remember not to leave glasses on counters. You can try to follow the rules again, too, to see if something changes, though I strongly doubt it. This place needs a proper exorcism.

  “I’ll ask Cardinal Whitesand to send someone over. Possibly the Nightmare Poets, too,” she said grimly and was about to continue when they all heard a polite knock on the door. Huh? I could’ve sworn we forgot to close it when we returned.

  Three knocks.

  Two knocks.

  Silence.

  Lord Simon opened his mouth, but Charlotte quickly put her hand up, urging him to remain silent.

  Three knocks. Two knocks. Silence.

  She stretched out her hand, and for a brief second, it seemed like starlight gathered on the tips of her fingertips, rapidly spreading out and forming a very elaborate looking shepherd’s cane, only that there was a large bell tied to the crook. It swayed from side to side, but made no noise, even though both Welz brothers saw the clapper touch the inner part of it several times.

  Charlotte gave a quiet relieved sigh and made a step towards the door.

  Three knocks. Two knocks.

  The bell rang, slowly and loudly, making the entire building resonate with it.