The world is changing. No, what am I saying? It has already changed.

  Perhaps the most prominent shift, at least in the lands of men, was the fall of a near-millennium-old reign: the reign of the man once known as the One and Only Emperor. His rule came to a dramatic end with his death at the hands of the infamous Queen Arianna, in their legendary duel above the Parting Sea.

  The demise of such a towering figure inevitably ushered in a wave of transformation on an unprecedented scale. Chief among these changes was the dismantling of the old regime and the rise of a new system in its place. This transformation gave birth to our organization: Inquisitorum Regiae, established with a singular mission, the one to purge the remnants of the previous order and eliminate any potential dissidents who might threaten this new era.

  The Era of Kings.

  ***

  As per usual, Anette woke up to the sound of the rooster doing its usual morning routine, springing automatically, the 18-year-old girl into her own routine. Flicking the sheet over her, she climbed out of bed, casting away grogginess before effecting a series of light stretches, coming to arrange her bed. Done with this routine, she walked up to her kitchen, which happened to be the first room she arrived in upon descending downstairs, where she proceeded to ready her very light breakfast and quickly have it as quickly as she finished readying it, before heading straight to the adjacent room, her bathroom, out of which she came dressed in her official work uniform.

  The uniform in question was comprised of a crisp white blouse with frilly ruffles down the front and puffed sleeves that gave her a sophisticated charm, while a black ribbon tied neatly under the collar, complete with a blue gem upon which was engraved the sigil of the Wardenpost Guild, a shield with a quill and scroll crossed over it, an eye above watching.

  The white blouse was coupled with a black skirt that swayed just below her knees, held up by a belt that was probably more for show than function.

  After pulling on knee-high white socks and slipping into polished Mary Janes, she tied her dark blonde hair into a neat high bun. Now ready for work, she donned her trademark leather gloves and picked up a basket, exactly what she knew she would need, before stepping out of her humble abode. It was a house she had very recently, and proudly, acquired under her own name in the city she was finally permitted to settle in.

  Closing the house behind her and checking twice, for she had the feeling that her little house would somehow be broken into, since, well, it was built in quite a calm and opulent neighborhood, which is great but at the same time she felt like this could motivate certain people to target her house, not that there was anything of particular value yet to be stolen in there, but still.

  Upon leaving the house, despite how she was dressed, Anette’s next destination was not immediately her workplace. No, instead, her destination was the mercantile district, for she was to acquire groceries, something she would not be able to do at any other hour of the day. Her job technically offered an opening that most would consider a midday break, but she found it very awkward to do grocery shopping then.

  Feeling fancy, today she went for brain, cow brain; liver, half a dozen eggs, bread, cookies sold by the kilo, and of course fruits, which ironically were the most important component of the list.

  Having secured everything, Anette left the mercantile, this time with her destination being her workplace, which was a neighborhood away. After walking for a dozen minutes or so, the establishment’s imposing but oddly towering structure came into view.

  Built following the office standards established by L&L Postal Company, the ultimate rival company of the Wardenpost Guild, for a large city such as this one, the local Wardenpost Guild postal office was one massive two-floored building.

  Walking beside her in the direction of the building were the office’s first clients of the day, and of course her colleagues. “Mh, I see, so today’s going to be one of these good days,” she mumbled, waving at people wearing a similarish uniform as her.

  Upon entering the building with them, she was, despite the early hour, met with an all-too-familiar scent. Parchment, warm ink, and the faintest trace of yesterday’s candle smoke mingled in the air, a blend oddly comforting to those who loved spending their days among books, yet far less pleasant for the overworked postal staff.

  A breeze followed her as she stepped through the arched doorway, her boots echoing lightly on the polished stone floor.

  Behind the counters, stacks of letters teetered precariously, their edges catching the soft morning light streaming through the windows. Shadows stretched across the sorting tables, and near the entrance, behind a wide oak desk, sat Lira—quill in hand and a steaming mug of leafbrew at her side, already at work.

  “Working hard already, aren’t we?” the young woman called out with a grin, stopping at the receptionist counter.

  The receptionist looked up, eyes crinkling. “Indeed, dear. My horoscope prophesied overwork this week.” She groaned playfully, resting her elbows on the desk. “I can already see this day spiraling. So I figured, might as well get a head start on my overtime. Isn’t that just mature of me?”

  “Mature or masochistic?”

  “Neither. It's just that unlike some people, I don’t get to just sit and look pretty while handing out delivery forms.”

  “Hey! How dare you look down at me like that," Anette pouted, then chuckled with the girl before offering her an apple. "Also, don't minimize the importance of looking pretty. That's a little over a quarter of the entire job.”

  She was right. Up until very recently, this very company had been very caring about the appearance of its receptionists, “female” receptionists, going as far as providing them with unique dresses used as uniforms and makeup for each day of the week. This was apparently a tactic used to bait in customers, but that tactic was dropped in favor of the now uniform attire shared by every girl of the company. Though Anette could agree that it still carried out the legacy of its predecessor, it was just that it was now more uniform in color.

  After exchanging some more pleasantries with Lira, Anette readied herself to head to her room, since her work hours were closing in. But in that moment, Lira called, “Anette, my revered superior, I have something to ask of you.”

  Anette turned and frowned. "What is it?"

  “Erm, you see... it's awkward to ask this but...erm.”

  “Out with it already. I'll be late soon.”

  “Alright, alright. You see, as per my contract my rent went up. I’m going to ask for an augmentation soon.”

  "Oh, so?"

  “So I would like you, Miss Secretary, to smooth the field for this humble and hardworking postal girl. Could you please do that for me? Slip in a few good words, something that won't make this attempt look like just me being greedy."

  At these words, Anette chuckled. "There is nothing wrong with being greedy; just don't be too greedy. I'll speak up to the boss."

  “Hihi, I knew I could count on you. Come here so that I give you the hug you deserve.”

  “Nope, I'm already close to being lat—Oh, now that I think of it, is the boss in already?”

  The girl shook her head, adding in reassurance, "Haven't seen him yet."

  “I see.” On these words, Anette turned and made her way toward their office corners, hers and her boss’s. Past a large door, she entered a square room whose ambiance quite fit that of a company as large as theirs. At the end of this room was a desk, the secretary desk, officially her desk. Footsteps light, left and right of that corner of the room were doors that, from the look of them, could be leading to a storage room, but no. Immediately after, through a quick routine of cleaning the secretary desk so that it didn't look as abandoned as it truly was, she walked up to the door to her left, which opened inside-out, revealing something that quite didn't fit what you'd expect: a tight staircase leading up, the scent of old ink accompanying her arrival at yet another door. She entered an even fancier room, for it was that of the local Wardenpost Guild director.

  Wasting no time, she began work, which for her consisted of going through a book of accounts. Being a postal service company, this book was updated daily and nightly. Anette was checking the transactions of the day before, looking for a particular type of transaction truly related to her line of work. But at the sight, she wasn't sure if she should be feeling dejected or happy; morally, receiving no such request was for the best, but financially, she wanted to receive those requests. A heavy sigh escaped Anette, one that was commented on by the man entering the room.

  “What could possibly have earned a sigh from such an early hour?”

  “Just the thought that today would be a boring day.”

  “A boring day, huh?” the man said, walking to the guest chair.

  “Unless you have something that won't make it a boring day, Director.” The forty-ish-year-old man was the director of the local Wardenpost Guild, officially her boss. Yet with a casual tone, she said, “If you have, I'm all ears.”

  The man chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Unfortunately, no. Unless we get a special request.”

  “I see.” Anette stood from the director's chair, adding with a touch of finality, “Since you have nothing to report, I'm heading down to the office. That's alright with you? Or do you still need your secretary?”

  “It's alright. Leave this all to me.”

  On these words, Anette left the director’s room, returned to her desk, grabbed her basket and files that she believed she could take care of in the offices, then headed there. To get to said office, she had to take the path opposite to the one leading to the director's office. In other words, she took the right door, then went down a tight staircase, which brought her through a depth most would see as ridiculous, and yet calmly, Anette proceeded to ultimately arrive at another door, one that, upon unlocking, led her to what she called the office.

  With artificially illuminated light, the office was very different from the one she had stepped into so far in the company. The ambiance, all the way to the layout, was completely different from that of the postal company up above.

  The place she stepped into resembled the typical Adventurer Guild reception hall, a building that can be found in the major city, a place where people come to commission quests, missions for adventurers, and a place where, in turn, adventurers gather to take these quests. The room fostered such an environment with the presence of long tables around which gathered rough-looking people who, with their appearance but mainly the dangerous weapons they casually carried around, could have passed for adventurers, but they weren’t.

  “'Oh, it's the Secretary Missy.”

  “Got something for us today?”

  “Oi, missy, come sit with us.”

  “Idiot, why would she sit with you?”

  “Why not?” he argued back.

  Anette only chuckled, recognizing the man just like she recognized everyone. She was greeted by over fifteen people, and all she did back was wave at them. She continued to the center of the room, where sat a reception desk with a girl dressed in a uniform that partly deceptively mirrored that of Lira, the postal receptionist. Partly because she was a receptionist, but she was not a Wardenpost Guild receptionist.

  “Good morning, Miss.”

  “Hello,” Anette greeted back.

  “Early again today, huh?”

  “Early, huh? Everyone is here before me. I wouldn't call this early.”

  “Don't let yourself be fooled by people who literally spend their night here. We just never left.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Anette said, glancing at the people sitting idly at the tables, doing all sorts of things, mainly chatting, but not as intensely as she preferred they would be. Then she added, “Everyone seems bored.”

  “They are, but what do you want? There's no new contract,” the receptionist Miriam said, glancing at Anette with expectant eyes. “Or is it?”

  “Sorry to disappoint, but no. I just checked, there’s no new contract.”

  “Ohhhh,” the receptionist girl sighed dejectedly.

  “You are eager to have work, aren’t you?”

  “I was. Don't get me wrong, I like it that there's nothing to do; I get to relax. But when it's to this extent, it's just too much. I'm tired of having nothing to do.”

  Glancing once again at the people gathered in the room, who threw curious glances her way, she added tragically, “You're not the only one… Don't worry. The Chairman and I are looking into it. Soon you'll be as overworked as Lidia, the receptionist above.”

  “Mmph, not sure if that's a threat I should dread or a promise I must look forward to.”

  “It's both. By the way, is the Charmain already—”

  Miriam shook her head. “He said he would be out very early this morning and hasn't come back since.”

  “I see.”

  “Oh, now that I think of it… I don't even know how I could have forgotten about it. You're not the only one looking for the Chairman; there's someone else.”

  “Someone else? An inquisitor?”

  She shook her head.

  “An office staffer?”

  She shook her head again.

  Anette frowned. “Someone from another office?”

  “Nope.”

  If it wasn’t an inquisitor like almost everyone in this room, or an office staffer like Anette and the receptionist, Anette understood that it could only be one other kind of person, one this company rarely hosted, a noble.

  “Where is he?”

  “The corridor. He said he'd be in the corridor.”

  “You made him wait in the corridor?”

  Being secretive has always been a top priority of this organization. It only made sense, considering what they mainly dabbled in. For a long time, their hideouts, such as this place, had been well hidden, with no one knowing its location and even fewer knowing the entrance, except inquisitors and office workers like Anette and the receptionist. Even nobles would not know where to find them in their own cities, except perhaps a handful, usually the most proeminent families.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  It was only in recent years, under the changes instituted by the man they called the Chairman and his peer, that a certain category of nobles had been informed of these hideouts’ locations. Now, much like a questgiver visiting the Adventurer Guild, they could appear and access the organization directly.

  Yet while the list of informed nobles had grown, it hadn’t expanded indiscriminately. It now included less prominent names, not that these nobles were insignificant, merely not as illustrious as the original few. In other words, anyone who knew how to reach a hideout was far from a nobody; they were, in fact, the cream of the elite.

  So the idea that he was left to wait in a corridor…

  “I didn't make him wait in the corridor. I offered him coffee while waiting, but he insisted that I return to my post. Sorry, but I couldn't bring myself to argue with his suggestion.”

  Anette tried hard to repress a frown.

  "Do you have a name for this noble?"

  "I have.... But not his full name. He just told me to refer to him as Lucas."

  She frowned again. Anette wasn’t concerned that the noble had withheld his full name. What unsettled her more was the name itself, she didn’t recognize it. Firm in her knowledge of every noble family in the kingdom, she knew of no one named Lucas, certainly not from any noble house in the region.

  Trying to be as discreet as she could to ask, Anette asked, “Say, Miriam, this noble, from which entrance did he come, and how did he introduce himself to you?”

  With an expression that was growing increasingly tenser, as if slowly realizing her mistake, Miriam explained, “He came from the northeastern entrance, and introduced himself as a noble is supposed to, as per new protocol—with an amulet, a black one.”

  Up to very recently, Anette’s organisation had been what’s typically referred to as a government-funded program, funded to maintain order in this new era. Up until now, the missions, special tasks they were given, were ones they received directly from the new regime. But with the new climate the land of man is now in, their organisation somewhat lost relevance.

  To address that their organization underwent a transition that would allow them to do more than what they had been doing so far, namely, being able to receive missions not just from the established new royalty but from high-ranking members of the nobility.

  More exactly, a handpicked number of noble families whose achievements earned them the right, in the eyes of the organization, to ask for their service. One way to prove this worthiness was for the organization to grant these noble families a token, a golden amulet carrying the organization’s symbol, a serpent, for nobles who individually met the requirements set by the organisation; a silver amulet for a noble family whose actions granted all of them the privilege to request the service of the organization, privilege extending to all direct family members; and the last token, a black amulet, which is a token that means the request is to be taken with the utmost priority, for the request is equal to that of a royal decree.

  This token is owned by people who are part of what Anette, the inquisitors, and the man they refer to as Chairman call their bosses, in other words, they represent the will of the “Three Kings”.

  They had their boss’s very bosses, in their walls and this girl had just said that she left him in some corridor. For a moment, Anette stared at Miriam, dumbfounded, before asking to confirm, “You’re sure it was a black amulet?”

  “Yes,” she replied, her expression puzzling Anette. In truth, it was the girl’s entire reaction that unsettled her, from the casual way she confessed to their facility hosting a noble guest to the offhand revelation that said guest was a black amulet holder. It was as if she had been in a haze and only snapped back to herself when Anette addressed her.

  “Huh… I… what did I just do? It’s like it completely slipped my mind… how…? Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. Take some rest,” Anette advised, a realization dawning on her. The whole exchange felt wrong for one simple reason: this wasn’t like Miriam, one of the facility’s two receptionists. Normally level-headed and dependable, Miriam would, under any normal circumstance, have immediately informed Anette of such a guest’s presence.

  But she hadn’t. And Anette was convinced this was no normal circumstance. The most immediate explanation that came to mind was that some kind of skill or ability had been used. It had to be.

  But to think that someone would be so brazen as to use a skill or ability against a member of their order in their own premises… she couldn’t help but feel impressed by the gall. But once again, if the said noble was a true black amulet holder, then it would only make sense that they were that brazen.

  “I’ll go meet our guest,” Anette declared, heading for where the guest was left waiting.

  Built beneath the postal office of the Wardenpost Guild, the facility boasted even bigger premises than the cover above. So naturally, as the secretary of the Chairman, who was the “boss” of this department, she had her own desk room, like she did up above. Walking down the large corridor leading to her desk room and that of the director, she found their guest at the end of a side corridor, back facing her, peering up at a large marble statue featuring three figures, two crowned male figures flanking a lady with long hair holding tightly onto a crown.

  The man did nothing to acknowledge her arrival, but she knew that he was aware of her presence. Proof of that was the fact that, a moment after she stopped a respectable distance from him, deep in his contemplative stance, he muttered, turning around, “This statue is such a nostalgic sight.”

  “Is that so, my Lord?”

  Anette knew not the accurate title of the man in front of her; she only knew that he was a noble, and a high-ranking one at that. So with utmost reverence, she went down to her knee.

  Raising her gaze slightly, she noticed the man dismiss her gesture with an arguably casual confidence. Bringing herself back to her feet, her gaze finally met that of the man standing in front of her, who was, she was certain, everything any maiden would imagine a young lord to look like.

  A king would be too old-looking, and a prince too young-looking, he was the perfect in-between, looking in his late twenties to early thirties. With silver hair, he boasted hazel eyes that seemed to contradict the warm smile on his face, eyes that somehow froze her.

  What was it that froze her? Fear? Reverence? Or something else? She couldn’t tell. She could only tell that she froze for far too long, for he asked with concern, “Miss?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she blurted, adjusting her gloves before realizing, “Oh, that’s right, I haven’t even introduced myself yet. I am, officially, Anette, Secretary to the Leirden’s Wardenpost Guild. But down here, on these grounds, I am an Inquisitor, working in office as the secretary of the the Chairman of the Inquisitorum Regiae section of the region of Leirden.”

  “I know,” the man smiled at her introduction, which for the first time in her life felt too long. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “You have…”

  “Yes, from Lord Orbcaller.”

  “From the Chairman.” She couldn’t help but wonder what that old man could have said to him about her, but she dared not ask. She only smiled, hoping that he had said something positive.

  As if reading her thoughts, the man chuckled, then reassured, “Don’t worry, he had nothing but praises about his secretary, such as her being a smart and talented young lady, one that is perhaps one of the youngest Inquisitors his organization has ever had.”

  “The Chairman has over-embellished things, I fear.”

  “Are you not a natural-born lawyer, as he said? One who unlocked the title Oathkeeper at—?”

  “I am…”

  “Were you not the young recruit that became an Inquisitor at fifteen?”

  “I have… but that’s… because of the circumstances.”

  “Circumstances? So you’re saying there were circumstances that made it so you earned that title undeservingly?” he asked, an inquisitorial glare in his eyes that made a cold sweat run down her spine.

  “My Lord, no, that—”

  “Hahaha, I was obviously teasing you. No need to be so tense. I did not come to this place to feel the same uptightness there would be in a court. So ease up, just talk to me as you would anyone.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not that bold, my Lord.”

  “Is that so? Then how about treating me as someone working for the Wardenpost Guild would treat a patron? You can do that, right?”

  “That… yes, I can do that, Sir.”

  He smiled warmly at the answer, then returned to contemplating the statue. A moment later, just before the silence became awkward, he said, “I have a similar statue in my familial mansion.”

  “Oh. Is that why it’s a nostalgic sight to you?”

  “Yes,” he nodded, but Anette noticed a clear hesitation in that nod. And as if sensing her making note of that detail, he looked at her from the corner of his eye, which, from that angle, made her feel like an insignificant child being naughty.

  “I have a similar statue in my familial mansion, the house I was born in.”

  “I see…”

  “It’s very much like this one, but a little different.”

  “In what way, Sir?”

  “Mm… let’s say that the most obvious thing about it is that it’s much more recent, obviously, with the statue featuring the two kings in that very pose, but instead of her,” he said, pointing at the long-haired woman clutching a crown, “that statue features the, then newly-crowned, Queen Theta.”

  The statue in front of them featured three of the most prominent figures of the Land of Man, in the same rank as the Seraphims, the angelic deities. The statues were those of King Lance, King Dorian, and, of course, Queen Arianna.

  Barely 150 years ago, the continent was ruled by an Emperor, a human monarch who went by the almighty title of One and Only. For almost 1,000 years, he ruled over the Land of Many through seven Kings. Queen Arianna was one such King, born over 350 years ago. She was a highbreed who rose up in strength to one day slay one of the existing Kings and take its place, for a time, before ultimately giving up the title to exile herself away.

  The exile wasn’t permanent, one century and a half ago, she returned to the Land of Man. And she did not return alone, she returned with allies, elven monarchs, with whose support she challenged the One and Only Emperor to a duel above the Parting Sea, the body of water splitting the Land of Man in half.

  In that battle, Arianna proved superior, for she slew the nearly millennial-ruling monarch, reinstating herself once again as a ruler of the Land of Man. But, unlike what one might expect, she did not call herself Emperor, she kept her title as Queen Arianna, a title she allowed two Kings to share with her: King Lance and King Dorian, whom one could infer must have betrayed the former One and Only Emperor, earning the good favor of the Emperor-killing Queen.

  As for the Kings who did not earn her favor, loyal to the old Emperor, their blood was cleansed from the surface of the earth, and the ones charged with that cleansing were the founding fathers of the organization now known as the Inquisitorum Regiae.

  Now, as for who Queen Theta is, she is the one who, much like in the much more up-to-date statue of the three Kings trio in his familial mansion, replaced Queen Arianna.

  It was a little over 125 years ago when, after years of silence, years of being missing, the death of the queen who slew the emperor that went unchallenged for almost 1000 years was made public. Many speculations were made as to what happened, but for Anette only a few made sense to the logic of it.

  Speculation said it was because she suffered injuries from her battle against the One and Only Emperor, for it was true that some time after that battle there was not much ever heard about her. Some other speculations had it that she was struck down by someone stronger than her, but that raised the question of who? Anette herself doubted there was anyone anywhere as strong as Queen Arianna in the Land of Man, save perhaps the angelic deities, but these beings aren’t exactly known for involving themselves in fights, in fact, they have the opposite of such a reputation.

  Another speculation, equally groundless to Anette for she doubted someone so powerful as Arianna would die such a mundane death, was that Queen Arianna died in childbirth. For one thing is sure: before passing, she left a daughter behind. That daughter, a half-breed, part Elven, part human, is the one who, simultaneously with the announcement of Queen Arianna’s passing, was crowned “Elven Queen,” making her, Theta, one of the three Kings of the Land of Men.

  This new Queen was a subject of fascination for many, and Anette was no exception. In fact, as someone from the Inquisitorum Regiae, she had even more reason to be fascinated by this Elven Queen. So, genuinely curious, she asked, “What does she look like?”

  A smirk at the corner of his lips, he asked, “We are talking about the statue, right?”

  “Yes, unless…” she alluded, tempting him with the bait that he might somehow take in sympathy.

  “I’m not sure if you’ve heard about it, but the Elven Queen’s whereabouts are a mystery even among the CrownLord families, so… I can only speak for the statue,” he said. But Anette found herself doubting the man’s words, for he looked like he knew much more than he let on, but who was she to expect anything from him?

  “Erm, let’s see. I’ll say the obvious thing: she is much younger, obviously. Even though the statue was meant to depict an already 30-year-old Elven Queen, she has Elven blood, so her appearance is that of an elf her age, in other words, still a child.”

  That only made sense. While the human average life expectancy is around 70 and can go up to 110 years, Elven life expectancy is much greater. In fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that as a species they are immortal, so long as they’re not killed, they might live eternally. So, for Theta, despite being only part elf, to have these immortal traits is no surprise, especially so when her very mother, who was human throughout, lived for over two centuries.

  “But even so, my statue managed to pin one thing for sure, it’s how uncannily similar to the mother the sculptor made the daughter. The long ears aside, that statue of her might as well have been that of a younger Arianna.”

  Anette stared at the statue, trying to picture a younger version of the woman it showed. But how young was she supposed to imagine? The queen didn’t even look that old—tall, confident, and maybe a little too perfect, like the sculptor had gotten carried away, especially on "that" department. Still, that proud, almost smug expression felt real enough. After all the stories Anette had heard about Queen Arianna, she figured the queen had every right to look that way.

  Eager to come up with an accurate representation of Queen Theta, Anette began, “Sir, how old exa—” intending to learn how old the statue of Queen Theta looked, but the sound of familiar footsteps made her turn, a movement that was joined by the man standing beside her.

  The man approaching was the man she and every Inquisitor working in the region referred to as Chairman. He is Lord Raymond Orbcaller, the man in charge of the Inquisitorum Regiae section of the whole region of Leirden.

  ***

  The Chairman’s room was much more impressive than that of the Wardenpost Guild’s director. It only made sense, after all, the latter was a subordinate of the former, handling the fa?ade that is the postal company for the Inquisitorum Regiae to do what it has been doing for over a century, hunting down remnants of the old regime and getting rid of all threats to the peace of the Era of Kings.

  There's a saying that goes that making tea and coffee is an essential part of a secretary's duty, but as the Chairman's secretary, Anette never made tea or coffee, for the man was an avid water enjoyer, one that he always poured himself, "can't afford being poisoned," he said, but she was more than certain that he had his reasoning for such preference. But today, unlike usual where he would ask nothing of her when it comes to tea, he asked her to make something for their guest. She naturally obliged, getting the nobleman tea and biscuits, that by the time she came serving, the men were in the middle of pleasantries, though perhaps the word pleasantries was a little too light. As observant as she was, she couldn't help but notice the tenseness of the Chairman, a man who had devoted his life to the order. And undoubtedly here he was clearly tiptoeing at each and every word he spoke to this rather laid-back, mysterious noble, making her wonder if she didn't make a mistake by engaging in conversation with him, and trying to appraise him.

  Feeling that it was a good time to retreat, the moment she presented the coffee and the biscuits to the low table around which the men sat, she offered, "Now, I'll take my leave here."

  Watching as the Chairman rose his hand to dismiss her, she watched in horror as the man who sat across the small table from him pulled out one of his smiles and asked, "Why leave already, did our conversation bore you so much, Miss Anette?"

  At these words of clear reproach, Anette looked at the man to ask for help, but the man just looked at her with a helpless expression urging her to answer, "No, Si—My Lord, absolutely not. I just think that what's going to be discussed is not something a lowly secretary is in capacity to hear, so I judged, wrongly perhaps, that it would be best if I removed myself."

  "I see, that's a very thoughtful incentive, but needless. What I'm about to say is something you can hear about, after all it somewhat involves you."

  These words sparked genuine concern in her heart, so much so that she struggled to refrain from a frown. "I see."

  "Please, sit with us."

  Sitting at the place the Chairman moved to make for her at the sofa, she exchanged a nervous glance with the Chairman, then watched as the man casually sipped the tea she brought. Putting the cup down, he calmly reassured, "No need to be so tense. Whatever I want your presence here for, it's nothing negative. If anything, it's thoroughly positive, you see, I've heard a lot about you."

  At these words, she very briefly glanced at the man sitting beside her, since if this man had heard about her, it had to be him.

  "In his letters, Lord Raymon sang praise of his secretary, the girl whom he personally formed, and I must say I'm not yet disappointed."

  "Hahaha... That's a relief, your Grace, I must admit I might have exaggerated a few things."

  At these words, she couldn't help but feel like she was thrown under a moving carriage, but at the same time she understood that he was actually doing the opposite, so she sat in silence, flashing the most polite of smiles, yearning to do just one thing, leave this place.

  "Not at all, I can tell you were even being humble, making me wonder what else you could have been hiding about her." She couldn't help but feel his eyes on her, but she did not dare to meet them.

  Just as she was adjusting her leather gloves to mask her nervousness, the Chairman unleashed a laughter to mask his own, "None at all, your Grace."

  He nonchalantly took yet another sip, then said, "Now then, I think I'm just being an awful guest by needlessly prolonging the suspense, so how about I talk about what I'm here for in the first place."

  Despite the concern of sounding rude, both Anette and the Chairman nodded, prompting the man to explain himself. And she had to admit to herself, the beginning of his explanation did nothing but leave her very perplexed—if not send her straight to a very far-fetched tangent of her own.

  "Have you ever been to the Holy Capital Miss Annette?"

  "No. Not yet, your Grace."

  "Hm, I see, but just in case, if I say the Floravelle. Does it ring a bell?"

  The name did ring a bell, but she hesitated to confirm, so she first glanced to the Charman, only to see from his expression that the name rang the same bell for him as it did for her.

  "Are you talking about "that" one establishment in the capital, your Grace?"

  Being a secretary to the man in charge of this section of the Inquisitorum Regiae meant that she had to cultivate herself to be fit for this role, one of these requirements being to be knowledgeable in history, geography, but more importantly than anything, to have extended knowledge of people, organizations, and connections. She had spent years memorizing all names that needed to be known, be they of important people or organizations, and what type of dynamics they had between each other. She spent time to do that so she could boast being a living and up-to-date encyclopedia that could be asked all sorts of questions about any organization or person, so long as they were at least slightly relevant to the continent. So to any questions about noble dynamics and known organizations, she would be confident in answering right. So how could she, a living encyclopedia, not know about the Floravelle, when all the young men, and not just young, but middle-aged and even old men of the Holy Capital knew of that place?

  "Yes, Miss Anette, I'm talking about the pleasure house," he casually confirmed. "Though I suppose it's a little mean to so disparagingly refer to them as a pleasure house when they're clearly more than just a pleasure house. After all, they're one of the most successful establishments of the Holy Capital, right behind the temples themselves."

  Once again, Anette exchanged a glance with the Chairman, who mirrored the expression on her face.

  "You're probably wondering why I’m even bringing that place up, right? Here’s why. Heard it from a friend in the establishment, starting a few months back, maybe even a year, several flowers, girls who worked for that organization, have gone missing."

  "Missing?"

  "Yes, missing. Vanished without a single word, not even a letter or any kind of message. Just gone. It makes me think they might have been abducted… or maybe not. But if they were, I want to find the culprit. And if they weren’t, I want to know where they went."