The air upstairs felt warmer, almost mundane compared to the sanctum below.

  Mary and I stood at the threshold where I’d removed my shoes. A white cloth hung from a rack nearby, set there for the worshipers who’d waded through the waters. Mary handed me one without a word.

  I dried my hands, wiping them slowly. “You’ve been letting commoners in to be baptized.”

  Mary’s movements slowed, listless. She dabbed at her face, then wrung water from her hair with deliberate care. “There’s no rule against it.”

  I smirked faintly. “No rule, maybe. But certainly a stigma.”

  Her silence stretched. She didn’t meet my eyes.

  I shook my head lightly, lips quirking.

  Maybe she's had a change of heart lately. Or maybe she's just becoming a bit more class conscious.

  Mary said nothing, only pulled the cloth down her platinum hair. Even damp, it gleamed faintly in the candlelight. Her voice was calm when she finally asked:

  “What are you here for, Damian?”

  I tucked the cloth into the rack, slipping my coat back over my shoulders. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes.”

  “You really want to get involved in all of this? I should caution you.” My voice dropped, sharper now. “Even knowing half of it can be dangerous. Especially for someone in your position.”

  Her hands paused at her collar. Her expression didn’t change, but her voice did - quieter, firmer. “If my Uncle is involved… then I want to know.”

  That earned her a long look from me. Finally, I nodded. “Then let’s find somewhere private.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Wordlessly, she led me down a corridor and out into the back of her residence - a quiet garden tucked behind stone walls. The hedges had been cut into deliberate shapes, vines climbing marble statues half-forgotten in the shade. The fountain at the center trickled softly, echoing in the still air.

  I couldn’t help the faint smirk tugging at my lips.

  Like niece, like uncle. More like father and daughter at this point. Both having an appreciation for nature I see.

  Mary sat on a bench near the fountain, smoothing her dress against her knees. I remained standing, pulling the envelope from my coat.

  “This,” I said flatly, handing it to her.

  Her fingers unfolded it with care. Her face remained calm - until her eyes skimmed the words. Her lips parted, eyes widening slightly. Shock.

  I spoke evenly, watching her reaction. “The Regent has had me looking into the Cardinal’s disappearance. This is what I found.”

  Her expression hardened, suspicion edging into her features. “Why would my Uncle send you to do this?”

  Her eyes began to glow faintly gold, like sunlight refracted through glass.

  I kept my face steady, voice level. “Because he’s testing me. Training me. Making me into a… disciple of sorts.”

  And hopefully your eyes can’t tell when I’m stretching the truth.

  The glow lingered, probing, before it slowly dimmed. She said nothing. Just nodded.

  “Wait,” I said suddenly. “Keep them on. Tell me what you see in the letter.”

  Mary blinked, but obeyed. Her eyes shimmered gold again as she stared at the parchment. Slowly, she spoke the words.

  “...‘To reveal the dark history hidden in the tunnels.’”

  I frowned. “That’s not what I saw.”

  Her gaze lifted, confused.

  “I could only read the first part.” I exhaled slowly, repeating it aloud. “‘It takes the eyes of two Angels… to reveal the dark history hidden in the tunnels.’”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Mary’s eyes flicked up to me, thoughtful, searching. “And what does that mean?”

  I narrowed my own gaze, thinking hard. “The tunnels… it must mean the abandoned drainage tunnels. Its the only real tunnel system under the city.”

  Her lips pressed thin. “And what now?”

  I shook my head, tension twisting in my gut. “Now, we wait. But this stinks of a trap.”

  Mary’s eyes dimmed as she lowered the letter, worry painting her face. “And we can’t tell anyone what we found. Not even my Uncle. Especially since we can't explain how we found this out.”

  I gave a faint, grim smile. “You’re right.” I flicked open my lighter, its flame small but steady. The parchment curled, blackened, then crumbled to ash between my fingers.

  I let the embers scatter into the fountain. “Best thing now is to play dumb. Make them think I couldn’t figure it out. Then… hopefully an opportunity arises that we can pounce on.”

  Her expression was troubled, her voice low. “It says both of us are required. How am I supposed to leave? I can hardly walk the cathedral halls without attendants, let alone wander the city alone.”

  “You’ll have to find a way,” I said, shaking my head. “Whatever this is, I can’t handle it alone. You know that as well as I do.”

  Mary’s lips pressed thin. Then she exhaled sharply, gaze flicking down. “…There’s a dinner party tonight. At Lord Arken’s residence. I was invited - apparently it’s supposed to ‘bolster noble morale’ after all that’s happened. I assume you're invited?”

  That made me grin, faint but sharp. “Funny. Arthur invited me to a dinner party tonight as well. Guess he forgot to mention whose it was. So I guess I was in fact invited.”

  Her blue eyes flickered toward me. “My Uncle will be there, too.”

  I gave her a sideways glance, lips curling. “You’re very close to your Uncle.”

  She clicked her tongue, eyes narrowing. “Hard not to be, when you barely have a father.” She froze slightly, then shook her head. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

  I chuckled lightly, shrugging. “Don’t worry. I doubt they’d hang you for treason. They’d probably hang me as a scapegoat, though.”

  Despite the strain, despite the weight of the letter, Mary smiled at that. A small, genuine smile, beautiful in its rarity.

  “…Probably.”

  I muttered, glancing down at my coat.

  “I’ll need a new suit,” The threads near the hem were frayed, and faint scorch marks still clung to the fabric. “My last one was… ruined. In the line of duty, protecting your highness.”

  Mary let out a small chuckle, a sound that didn’t quite match the solemn garden. “I’m assuming you’re asking for a tailor?”

  “In lesser terms, yes.”

  Her smile tugged faintly at the edge of her lips. “I’m hardly an expert, considering my gender. But the one I’ve gone to for dresses also makes suits. Elegant ones. Roussel & Sons. On Minton Street.”

  I gave her a curt nod. “Thank you. Then I’ll see you tonight.”

  Mary’s eyes softened ever so slightly. “You will.”

  I turned, tucking my hands into my pockets as I left the garden.

  ---

  The bell above the shop door chimed as I stepped in. The air smelled faintly of pressed fabric and lavender polish.

  Suits of every shade hung in perfect rows, silver buttons catching the gaslight. The shelves were lined with silk gloves, polished canes, and hats far too tall for my taste.

  Behind the counter stood an older man, his back bent slightly with age, his silver spectacles catching the light. His eyes flicked over my coat, my slightly disheveled hair, then settled on me with a polite but strained smile.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How may we assist you?”

  I glanced around. “Any chance you have flat caps? Noble fancy ones.”

  The man’s smile grew tighter. “I’m afraid… no. We do not carry flat caps.” He gestured delicately toward a shelf where two absurdly tall hats sat on polished stands. “We do, however, have a wide range of top hats, bowlers, and homburgs-”

  “Never mind.” I waved the suggestion off. “Just a suit then. Black. Decent.”

  “Of course.” The man adjusted his glasses. “The cheapest would be five hundred Aurum.”

  I kept my face deadpan. Inside, I winced.

  Five hundred for a jacket and trousers. I should’ve become a thief.

  “I can splurge a little.” I said evenly.

  “Ah. In that case, the next set up would be… one thousand two hundred.”

  I almost choked.

  Twelve hundred?! What the hell is it made of, saint’s hair and angel feathers?

  “The five hundred will do,” I said quickly.

  “Very good, sir.”

  He took my measurements with swift precision, muttering numbers under his breath as the tape wrapped around my chest and arms. A few minutes later, he returned with a neatly folded suit, the fabric dark and smooth, faint silver trim stitched into the lining.

  He held it out reverently, then helped me into the jacket, tugging it neatly across my shoulders.

  As I adjusted the sleeves, I remarked casually, “Mary recommended this place.”

  The man frowned faintly. “Mary? We serve a variety of clientele. You'll have to more specific, sir.”

  “Mary Magdalene.”

  The man’s hands froze. He nearly dropped the sleeve as his mouth opened wide, eyes widening like I’d just confessed a divine miracle.

  “Her Highness… recommended my shop?”

  “Apologies,” I said dryly. “Forgot the proper etiquette.”

  His hands trembled as he stepped back. “Sir, this… this is an honor beyond words.” His voice cracked, reverent. “What is your name, if I may ask?”

  “Damian,” I said. “Still working on the last name.”

  The shopkeeper bowed so low I thought he might collapse. “Damian, the one blessed by the Almighty… I apologies for my rudeness sire. This suit is free of charge. It is an honor I will remember until my last breath.”

  I blinked, then tilted my head. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir.” His voice wavered with sincerity. “Please. Accept it.”

  I hesitated, then pulled a single note from my pocket - one hundred Aurum - and pressed it into his palm. “Then at least take this as a tip.”

  His hands trembled again, clutching it like holy relic. “You are too kind…”

  I buttoned the jacket and tugged my cuffs, turning toward the door. The bell chimed again as I stepped back into the street, the suit settling perfectly on my shoulders.

  Behind me, I could still hear the man muttering prayers of thanks under his breath.

  I smirked to myself, walking down the cobblestones.

  That was almost too easy.

  ALSO, any silent reader want to give feedback on the pacing? Sometimes I think it may be getting too hard to follow. There will obviously be a big payoff when the whole Morren Arc ends, but I fear that I may unload too much sometimes instead of maybe pacing it out. Its a balance between entertaining the reader while trying not to overwhelm them, if you get what I mean?