28 March 1686 of the 6th Era, Whimsyshire village, Enua

  Mrs Lydia Greeves placed the tea cups in front of her guests and, too, sat down, her back perfectly straight. Despite her advanced age, she was still full of energy, with a commanding voice and presence. Her appearance reflected her former position: while modest, her dress was made of expensive fabric, and her hair was arranged in a tight bun.

  It was therefore most jarring that the room they were sitting in did not harmonise with Mrs Greeves’s image. Neither did the overall interior of the tiny cottage. Walls were all but buried under embroidered pictures of kittens, rabbits, and birds. The ceiling was decorated with a gaudy floral pattern, which tied into a similar pattern on the carpet. Finally, to finish this awkward ensemble, every single flat surface in this room was covered with a crocheted doily. Some in the shape of flowers or snowflakes. Others square. And then some more were round, or rectangles, and of all sorts of colours, ranging from pure white to a gaudy mixture of yellow, blue, and orange. The only thing that even remotely felt fitting for Mrs Greeves' character was the tiny sleek bookshelf, which mostly held literature related to bookkeeping.

  Charlotte felt slightly claustrophobic in this space. The only thing it was missing, she thought, was a large porcelain decorative plate with a goose wearing a cape and one of those exceptionally old fashioned hats. Too old fashioned even for elves or sylphs. Antony next to her seemed to silently share her opinion.

  “Mr Fincke did warn me that someone might pay me a visit because of some ghost or two that found their way to poor Lord Welz’s house. However, I didn’t expect the request to arrive on the very same day,” Mrs Greeves picked up her own cup and drank from it, displaying perfect manners. Quite a few nobles could probably learn a thing or two from her, which wasn’t at all surprising. She used to be the one representing the household in everyday exchanges, and being perfection itself was an absolute necessity if she wanted to keep that job.

  “I would normally arrange for a meeting at least two days in advance, but some events are forcing me to act much faster,” Charlotte warmed her fingers against the cup.

  “Oh, please, I didn’t mean to reprimand you,” Mrs Greeves looked terrified. Aghast with her own behaviour, even. “I full well understand that time is not on your side. Poor Mr Brook, his trial is quickly approaching.”

  “And that, too,” Charlotte sighed. So much had happened in a span of a day or two that she was beginning to forget why she even got entangled in this mess in the first place. “We will try to take as little of your time as possible.”

  “Not that I have much to do nowadays,” the elderly woman chuckled, elegantly covering her mouth with her hand. “The garden is calling to me, but it’s still a tad too cold to fully devote myself to it, and I’m already done with this week’s puzzles. For all I care, you have all the time in the world, my lady.

  “Well, perhaps not all the time in the world,” she hurriedly added, “seeing that your kin experiences things differently. An afternoon tea for you might be half my lifespan. But I’m certain you understand what I mean.”

  “As you rightfully put it, we must save poor Mr Brook. The court won’t postpone his hearing just because the three of us decide that we want to discuss current trends in peony colours or how to store tulip bulbs so that they would survive the winter,” Charlotte saw Mrs Greeves eagerly nod to that statement, rummaged in the pocket of her skirt, and took out her trusty notepad and a pencil. “I don’t have that many questions to ask, but the answers might be crucial in finding the true culprit responsible for this tragedy.

  “First, Mrs Greeves, as someone who has worked in this household longer than anyone else from the staff, do you know who was first to establish the rules everyone had to follow? Such as keeping the curtains closed in certain rooms?”

  “That was most definitely Lord Leonard Welz’s orders. His father was an eccentric man, for sure. But his eccentricities stopped at placing a rather suggestive statuette in the middle of the hall. Right next to the staircase, too, just to watch the reactions of his guests as they entered through the main door just before a ball or a banquet. He so loved to host those. Oh, those were the days,” Mrs Greeves readily replied, her eyes shimmering and her face becoming dreamy. “Ladies in beautiful ball gowns, gentlemen wearing their best coats, the music… I really loved the music. Lady Pauline, Lord Leonard Welz’s mother, was a huge patron of the arts and had impeccable taste when it came to hiring musicians.

  “Oh, but what am I saying. Surely that is a weekly pastime for you, my lady.”

  “It used to be the case, but that was a century ago,” Charlotte admitted politely. “I do miss dancing sometimes, but my work leaves me little time to participate in the social season.

  “Lord Leonard Welz did not follow in his parents’ footsteps, I take it?”

  “Unfortunately not. He felt it a meaningless waste of time and money, and only hosted the absolute minimum of events. Just enough to not be considered an outcast and be welcome at other noble houses. His poor wife, Lady Margaret Welz, loved socialising, and the same can be said about their daughter, Lady Ariadne Welz. The poor child, she left her parents the moment she came of age. Married some aspiring banker.”

  “Do you perchance remember his name?” Antony looked up from his own notes.

  “Mr Percival Blacksmith,” Mrs Greeves replied, eyeing him disapprovingly. Even though Charlotte had introduced him as someone assisting her with the case, it was clear what Mrs Greeves’ thoughts were. He had no business voicing his thoughts, let alone asking any questions, unless prompted by the lady he was accompanying. “His parents own an atelier in the West District and used that money to give their child proper education. He made a fine start, I must say.”

  “Isn’t he also a collector of the arts?” Antony ignored the coldness in Mrs Greeves’ eyes.

  Ah, so you are that kind of person. Charlotte silently observed their exchange, paying attention to Mrs Greeves’ body language. Letting Antony take over the questioning could backfire badly, but the risk was worth it.

  “Ah, I see you know a thing or two,” Mrs Greeves meanwhile nodded gracefully. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, knowing who you work for. Yes, he is indeed an avid collector. Precious stones, paintings, sculptures. Lady Ariadne has shown me some of the necklaces her husband bought her. Charming pieces, I must admit. He might not have the most noble of names, but he has a most refined taste worthy of the house of Welz,” she raised her head proudly while saying that.

  “No doubt,” Antony nodded in return. “But coming back to that peculiar set of rules, do you remember when they were established?”

  “Let me think,” she elegantly placed a finger in front of her mouth, looking at the ceiling. “I don’t remember the exact year, but I’d say around forty or so years ago. His father had already moved to Stolberg, leaving him in charge of the house, and Lord Leonard Welz was already married, but they had yet to have their first child. Yes, a bit over forty years ago, give or take.”

  “Was there anything that preceded it or did it come out of nowhere?”

  “Not that I remember anything specific,” she shook her head at first. However, when neither Charlotte nor Antony followed up with any questions, fell into deep thought. “Perhaps… I think just before that, Lady Margaret Welz fell seriously ill for the first time. The very same illness that finally claimed her life twenty years ago. But I don’t see how it could be connected.”

  “Did Lord Welz ever explain the reason for the rules that he put in place?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Mrs Greeves shook her head again, this time with full confidence, “I am afraid not. And… certainly you know not to question the little eccentricities of your employer.”

  “I fully understand the sentiment,” Antony said without even a hint of a smile, then glanced at Charlotte. She, however, made no move to take over the conversation, still content with how it was going. He continued, “There is one more detail that we would like to ask you about. Among other things that were stored in the safe, whoever committed the crime also took the Northern Star. Do you know anything about the history of that necklace?”

  “It’s an old heirloom granted to one of his ancestors by King Tamir himself,” Mrs Greeves replied confidently. “A priceless piece, with a beautiful emerald at its core.”

  “An emerald?” Antony raised his voice in slight surprise. “Mr Brook claimed it was a ruby.”

  “No, no, most definitely not a ruby,” she almost recoiled, appalled at the very suggestion. “Lady Margaret wore it once or twice when she was young, and it was an emerald. I might have trouble with sight nowadays, but I assure you, I can tell green and red apart just fine.

  “It got its name from the shape of the stone, if that interests you.”

  “You just said that Lady Welz only wore it once or twice,” Charlotte quietly asked. “Why was that? Did she not like it?”

  “I’m not sure. She only wore it to a few major occasions before falling ill, and when she first recovered, never again.”

  “Could she have believed it to be bad luck?” Antony proposed.

  “She wasn’t superstitious, so I’d say no. If I were to guess, I’d say it attracted too much attention, and she wasn’t one to enjoy that. It was a stunning piece after all,” she said, but without much confidence.

  Now that reply didn’t sound quite right. Outright contradicting Mrs Greeves’ previous statement, even. However, Charlotte decided to drop the matter for the time being, fearing that insisting on a straight answer could put Mrs Greeves on the defensive.

  Antony thought for a moment, then asked, “We heard that recently, someone tried to purchase the Northern Star, but Lord Welz declined in a rather dismissive manner. Do you perhaps happen to know who it was?”

  “I don’t mingle in the affairs of my employer,” Mrs Greeves said somewhat haughtily.

  Ah, and there we are.

  Antony sighed, “I am certain you don’t. However, Mrs Greeves, I, too, as you rightfully pointed out, work at a noble household. I am a personal secretary, so perhaps I know a tad more than a housekeeper or a butler. However, half the time I learn things not from Lord Blackwater, but from a group of gossiping maids, or the gardener. Or Millie from accounting who happens to know a girl in Lady Cadence’s household who accompanied said lady to the poetry salon that Lord Blackwater organises every other week and, believe it or not, overheard Lord Blackwater say something seemingly inconsequential, and then made all the right conclusions,” he stopped briefly to catch his breath, “and if you think that you’d leave a bad impression on Lady Dawntreader by saying something you shouldn’t know about your employer, then…”

  Charlotte’s shoe lightly hit him in the ankle and he fell silent, letting her continue, “Mrs Greeves, I come from Lundhaven, and it’s a very different country compared to Enua. Our class system is much more diluted, if that is the right word?

  “My first social outing happened when I was forty five, just before coming of age. But before that, I barely interacted with the aristocracy. My best friends were my lady’s maid and her friends, who we often had tea with. I did garden work together with our gardener, and tried learning cooking together with our kitchen staff, but that one,” she blushed and resorted to examining the intricate pattern of one of the doilies placed on the table. “Let’s just say I can make a meal if need be, but if you want something that actually tastes good, too, you’d best make sure I’m not allowed anywhere near the pantry.

  “First and foremost, I need to solve this case. Learn who actually killed Lord Welz and why. And I strongly believe that everything is very closely tied to that necklace. So even if it wasn’t you who overheard something, but one of your maids, I’ll gladly hear it. Just think this – you’re not telling a lie, at worst you’re passing on a rumour, but that rumour might be what is required to save Mr Brook’s life.”

  “Well, I… I don’t even… I don’t know what to say,” Mrs Greeves seemed to be caught in the middle of discovering a whole new world. There was no doubt that a noble doing garden work and drinking tea with a maid was something she couldn’t imagine in her wildest dreams. Yet, Charlotte could also see that Mrs Greeves believed her words. “As I said, I try to stay out of my employer’s affairs, unless they directly concern the household or our funds, and it goes without saying that I have little interest in Lord Welz’s affairs nowadays. Still, I do occasionally receive news from those who still work for him.

  “Lord Welz took huge pride in that necklace, and I wholeheartedly agree with him. Such an heirloom is worth way more than money can ever offer, even if it’s over fifty thousand gold pounds,” Charlotte and Antony looked at each other, then back at Mrs Greeves, who nodded and continued, “I believe that offer came from Lord Crona, Lord Welz’s business partner. However, he was not the only one. Mr Blacksmith also offered to purchase it after Lord Welz refused to give it to Lady Ariadne, providing some silly reason as an excuse. I am afraid that Lord Welz might have offended the young man and, as a result, his own daughter. She stopped coming to the house after that.”

  “When was that?”

  “I’d say seven or eight years ago, but my memory is not to be relied on when it comes to dates. Your employer, too, briefly showed interest in the thing,” the elderly woman allowed herself another little chuckle, “but I doubt it was a serious offer. He doesn’t strike me as someone interested in jewellery.”

  “Most definitely not. If it were a rare book or a painting, on the other hand…”

  “I think Lord Marcus Welz also inquired about it. More along the lines of who would be receiving it according to the will,” Mrs Greeves continued. “Oh, perhaps unrelated, but still. Seeing that you’re inquiring about the necklace, I should add that there was an incident four years ago, just a year before I retired. Lord Welz was hosting a dinner. Lots of important guests including the Cardinal of the Church of the Dead Moon, head of the Royal Knights, top bankers… I believe Lord Blackwater was also invited, but couldn’t make it due to some other arrangement.

  “That dinner was interrupted by an unannounced visit from Mr Ryan Dr’lain. Or was it Reginald? Richard? No, no, definitely Ryan, like my second nephew. A charming kid, very smart, and such wonderful rosy cheeks,” she heard Antony politely clear his throat and gasped. “Right. Lord Welz had mentioned the name on a number of occasions, but I think it was the first and the last time I actually saw him. From what I remember, he and Lord Welz fought together in the Eastern Archipelago campaign, and he, too, was one of the few survivors of the Cape Hope massacre. Obviously Lord Welz didn’t invite him to the table and had an exchange with him in the hall. A very heated exchange that I accidentally overheard while taking care of a spill on the carpet on the first floor,” she blushed slightly. “Mr Dr’lain demanded that Lord Welz hand over the Northern Star.”

  “Just like that?” Antony quizzically raised his eyebrow.

  “Yes. Obviously I was a tad too far away to hear what they were talking about. That is, before they started screaming at each other. Mr Dr’lain said something very weird that night. Claimed that Lord Welz had no right to keep the Northern Star and that it should be returned to its rightful place ‘before it’s too late’, to which Lord Welz laughed and said that Mr Dr’lain was acting delusional and that the Northern Star was nothing more than a pretty necklace. After a few more accusing statements from Mr Dr’lain on that matter Lord Welz finally had enough and threw him out of the house, then told Mr Fincke that the man was not welcome there anymore.”

  “Was there anyone else who could have accidentally overheard the conversation?” Antony jotted down a few notes of his own.

  “Mr Fincke, obviously,” Mrs Greeves laughed heartily. “He appeared the moment Lord Welz uttered his name. I’m certain he was also dealing with some late night cleaning somewhere on the ground floor and just happened to be in earshot distance. Possibly polishing silver plates somewhere.”

  “Thank you, we’ll be sure to ask him about it,” Antony tried not to grin.

  They asked Mrs Greeves a few more questions about the household and members of the family, but learned little of interest. Lord Reginald Welz had a gambling habit and on the regular accrued staggering debts that his father would pay in order to avoid massive scandals. Lady Ariadne Welz loved new dresses more than life itself, and her husband loved her too much to say no. Lord Marcus was an alcoholic and a debauchee, and his nightly escapades were truly trying Lord Welz’s patience. Lord Simon Welz was probably the most levelheaded of the four, but that was the only positive thing he had going for him. Too shy, not the brightest, and a terrible dancer, according to Mrs Greeves. Managed to step on the dress of his dance partner during his introduction to the court, almost causing her to trip and fall. The only one of the bunch to still not have found a spouse. While none of them were without shortcomings, she could not imagine any of them being capable of killing their father, let alone for money or a single precious stone.

  She could not say much about Mr Brook, apart from firmly believing him to be innocent and describing him as a diligent, thoughtful and caring member of the elven people, perhaps with his head a bit too high in the clouds whenever he started talking about his fiancèe. His Nakaran ancestry troubled her a trifle, but in all those thirty odd years they had worked together he never displayed any disloyalty to the crown or otherwise behaved in a way where such mistreatment of his person would have been warranted.