The mist thickened as we walked deeper into the Cathedral’s back halls.

  It clung to the stone like fog on a battlefield, seeping from iron censers bolted along the walls. Each one ticked faintly, gears within turning to keep the ember coals alive, a faint hiss of steam escaping the seams.

  A holy machine. Steampunk sanctity.

  The air was heavy with it - sweet, sharp, and cloying. It burned faintly in my lungs.

  “The incense,” Mary explained softly, walking ahead of me. Her white robes trailed against the polished stone, catching the orange glow of gaslamps. “It would sear the lungs of anyone harbouring malice. Their intent would poison them.”

  I stopped, staring at her back. “And you didn’t think to warn me?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, smile small and sharp. “If you had no malicious intent, why worry?”

  I turned my head slowly, irritation simmering. Inwardly, I noted the cruelty in her calm tone.

  Tyrant in training. I can already see the crown on her head.

  The Cardinal’s residence came at the end of the hall. Unassuming. A simple oak door, its frame plain, no gilded carvings or angelic statues. Inside was no different - bare stone walls, a modest cot, a desk with scattered parchment, and a single shelf with worn scripture.

  Humility disguised as living.

  I narrowed my eyes and let the veil slip as my eyes dyed red. My vision shifted, the world tinged with shadow. Divinity bloomed faintly in the air, not in torrents, but like ripples on a still pond. Tranquil. Suppressed.

  I moved carefully through the room. No drawers overturned, no signs of struggle. Just stillness. Too still.

  Kneeling by the desk, I ran my hand along its surface. My fingers found a ridge where the grain shifted unnaturally. A trap seam.

  Pulling it open revealed a hidden recess. Divinity coiled within, stronger, almost vibrating. A leather-bound diary sat inside. At first glance, it revealed only blank pages.

  I held it up, showing Mary the diary. “Seems like it's locked behind simple alchemy, maybe your blood would work.”

  Mary’s face tightened. “Perhaps. But it would be an invasion of his privacy.”

  I met her gaze flatly. “And you’ll do it anyway.”

  Her lips pressed thin. “Why?”

  I exhaled, weighing my words. “Because it’s important - for me, and for the Lord Regent. It will help the Lord Regent to a significant degree if it proves useful.”

  Her eyes glimmered faintly, Verity probing me. She whispered under her breath, almost to herself. “My uncle has much to explain.”

  Still, she picked up a pin at the desk, pricking her finger. A single drop of blood fell onto the page. The ink stirred like it had been waiting.

  Neat, practiced strokes unfurled across the parchment, lines of careful script.

  I skimmed, flipping pages quickly. Most of it was mundane - observations, scripture, notes on sermons. But at the last couple pages, something caught my eye.

  “The factory districts fester with dissent. Workers gather, stirred by a man named Hallrigg. His words spread like fire. I’ve placed watch officers among them, yet my spies vanish one by one. Still, I believe this unrest can be harnessed - or will be. If left unchecked, it will give our enemies entry into the city. The city believes the Heretics are gone, a mere footnote in our history. They are not. I fear if we do not wake up soon, disaster will reign. For as long as I breathe, I will not allow the Heretics to step foot into Morren again. May the Almighty guide me, and may He free us all.”

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  I smirked faintly.

  It seems the Regent was right. It seems the Cardinal was targeted, and for a reason.

  Closing the diary halfway, I slid it back into its trap seam, glancing at Mary with thin eyes. “You say it’s unjust that I invade his privacy. Yet the upper class spies on the masses to an extensive degree, do they not? When I do it, though, suddenly it’s immoral.”

  Mary’s head whipped toward me. “Don’t compare us to-” She stopped herself.

  “Peasants? Commoners? Gutter rats?” My voice was quiet, edged. I gave her a thin smile. “Apologies for lowering you to our level, Your Highness.”

  Her eyes flashed. Shock, irritation. But she said nothing.

  I stood, careful not to disturb the tranquility of the Cardinals room. “I’m finished here.”

  We stepped back into the misted halls. The silence between us was brittle.

  Finally, she broke it. “What do you intend to do with what you found?”

  I didn’t slow. “What I need to.”

  Her tone hardened. “This secrecy is insulting. I’ll be speaking to my uncle. I deserve to know what game is being played - especially now that I’m involved.”

  I sighed. Letting the jab at “commoners” go for now. “If you really want to help, I’d greatly appreciate it. But I doubt they’ll let you leave the Noble District. I’ll ask when I need to.”

  Her jaw tightened. She looked away, seemingly troubled by something.

  I only glanced, slightly amused.

  Seems her and the Regent are quite close. Otherwise, she would be kicking me out as soon as possible rather than asking so many questions.

  At the Cathedral’s side doors, the mist was thinner, the halls empty. She stopped just before the threshold. “Leave before sunrise. The curfew is strictest then. If you’re caught outside, not even Arthur could protect you.”

  I nodded once. “Understood. Thank you.”

  The night air hit cool against my skin as I stepped outside. I glanced back over my shoulder. Mary still lingered in the doorway, incense curling around her like a veil, her face impossible to read.

  But I didn’t need to read it. I could already guess.

  If only you knew, young lady.

  I know your secret.

  I know your uncle’s true face.

  You’re both so close - and yet you hide so much.

  A sigh slipped from me, thin and tired. Maybe I’d have felt guilty, if my impression of either of them wasn’t already poisoned.

  The door shut slowly, wood groaning as it sealed.

  And just like that, I was alone again.

  —

  The Inner Rim smelled different at night. Less incense, more soot.

  By the time I reached my apartment, the streets were nearly empty, patrol lamps flickering through the mist. There was no specific curfew in the Inner District, but patrols were still rampant.

  My key scraped against the lock, hinges groaning as I stepped inside.

  The place was simple, practical. Four walls, a desk, and a bed too stiff for comfort. A far cry from Arthur’s manor - or the Regent’s estate. But it was mine.

  I stripped off my noble jacket and tossed it across the chair, pulling on a long overcoat instead. A flat cap followed, shadowing my hair and bangs until the mirror showed someone who could blend into a crowd. Someone common.

  Someone forgettable.

  A parcel sat neatly on the desk. It hadn’t been there before. The Regent’s handwriting marked the seal. I didn’t open it. My fingers lingered on the paper before I shoved it aside.

  “Rather not use it,” I muttered, half to myself, half to him. “Not unless I have to.”

  From the drawer, I pulled my revolver. Six rounds clicked neatly into the chamber. The weight settled into my coat pocket like an old habit.

  Next came a packet of cigarettes I’d been saving for… something. An occasion. Guess this counted. Would help me blend in. Or maybe it was an excuse.

  “I was trying to quit,” I said, striking the match. The flame flared, then died into smoke. I drew in a long breath, exhaling slow. “Too late now.”

  The mirror caught me.

  Not the noble’s savior. Not Arthur’s apprentice. Not the Regent puppet. Just a tired man in an overcoat, eyes shadowed, smoke curling around his reflection.

  “Looks common enough,” I muttered, pulling the cap lower.

  But even under the brim, my eyes looked worn.

  Too sharp. Too tired.

  Too awake.