The voice came from behind a dark, brown receptionist's desk. Though from where Ulrich stood, all he could see was a little bit of dark, reddish hair sticking out.
Ma'am… Shouldn't you get a higher chair? He mused, then lifted his black snap cap and approached the desk with steady steps.
"My name is Rosaline. How may I help you?"
The brown-reddish hair girl looked to be in her early twenties. She wore a light green, Celtric dress.
Ulrich smiled, lowering his head just slightly, and spoke in a deep but low voice," I'm told that I can request certain services here?"
Rosaline raised her head, finally seeing Ulrich's sleek appearance. Quickly, she stood up and nodded.
"If you need us to find missing items, house pets, or even write letters, we can do it for you. As for other services…" She paused, observing his reaction, before continuing.
"Few have come for protection service, while some requested private investigations. But I admit, our prices are steep."
Hearing this, Ulrich stared at her, as though he was in deep thought. To be honest, these services didn't interest him in the slightest.
Perhaps the common folks of Belham who cannot read or write would be interested, but Ulrich was already a rather educated man. As for protection service, he was more confident in his own ability to fend for himself.
The rest of the services listed were irrelevant.
It is true… They seem legitimate. But… the exterior and interior are still lacking… Do they even get any business?
Rosaline noticed that Ulrich wasn't exactly here for any service. Confused, she asked," You seem to need something else?"
"I'm here to see Inspector Owen. May I know if he is available?" He reached his hand into his chest pocket to pull out the business card, the same one Inspector Owen gave him.
She didn't answer immediately, nudging her glasses before reaching forward, "May I?"
"Of course," He nodded with a smile.
After looking at the card for about three seconds, she handed it back, then directed his attention toward the door around the reception desk.
"You should find him in the office at the furthest room to your right after you enter through the door."
"Thank you." He expressed his gratitude, put on the snap cap, and then went through the door.
Once the door closed behind him, Rosaline sat down, her hand resting on the page of a thick book as she started skimming the content.
Not long after, the door opened again with a low thud.
"Welcome In! Cartwright Security at yo—"
She paused, her smile faltered as Victor Dunley came through the front door, "Oh… It's you."
Rosaline wanted to return to the book in front of her; however, she noticed something amiss when observing Victor's expression.
His eyes seemed to linger toward the back door without glancing at her. It was as though he already knew who came before him, and her presence was pushed into the background.
Quickly, she threw glances toward the door Ulrich walked through before speaking again.
"You were following him? Should I have stopped him?" She muttered, her voice low and quiet, almost a whisper.
Hearing her immediate assumption, Victor's eyes twitched.
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"No, on the Captain's word, he is invited," He said, shaking his head and walking to the same door around the reception desk.
"Why do you look like you saw a ghost then?"
"As if you would know anything about ghosts."
Fine by me! She huffed, then returned to the book in front of her.
As Victor pushed the door, he paused for half a minute, then turned his head." Did you notice anything abnormal about him?"
Rosaline was quiet, her head peeking through the top of the counter.
From here, Victor could only see the top of her head turning left and right, accompanied by the sound of pages flapping.
Seeing this, he almost reached for the pin on his coat and tossed it in her direction, but stopped himself.
Phew…
"I could hear you the first time."
Subconsciously, she nudged her glasses again, before answering him with a mocking tease, "You think I would've let him through if he was abnormal?"
"Not to mention, Captain Ottis wouldn't have given him the card if he was unsure!"
Couldn't you be any less petty? I only remember stealing 'one' slice of Spanakopita from you!
Victor sighed and left, ignoring her remarks.
The hall behind the door was quite unlike the lobby or exterior of the building. As he walked down the hall, he couldn't help but feel small.
Man… The ceiling is a bit too high right?
Soon, he noticed the walls and floor were actually made of well-processed marble, or some sort of stone. It was smooth and glistening, each step leaving behind a loud echo. Eventually, he made it to the door furthest down the hall, as instructed by Rosaline.
Knock. Knock.
"It's Ulrich Constantine. I wish to speak to you regarding our earlier conversation." He said, waiting for an answer through the door.
Ten seconds passed before the lock on the door twisted and turned, followed by that familiar, yet firm voice.
"Come in."
As Ulrich entered the room, he realized it was almost as spacious as the lobby. This was surprising, considering how shabby the exterior looked.
In front of him was a refined desk, aged wood perhaps. There were even three stacked bookshelves, filled to the brim with books on a variety of topics.
"With the way your 'business' looks, I would suspect you guys launder money to maintain the upkeep of this place…" Ulrich commented, his eyes darting the room with skepticism.
Hearing this, Ottis chuckled, yet he didn't exactly refute Ulrich's remark.
"Our funds are guaranteed by the Churches of the Night Mother, with some subsidies from the Union."
At the same time, he sat down on the high chair, picked up a churchwarden on his left, while holding a matchstick on his right.
"Do you mind?" He asked, pointing the matchstick at the churchwarden's pipe.
"Not at all."
Shh.
With a flick of his wrist, he lit the matchstick, then slowly ignited the pipe. Once it was ignited, Ottis took a puff of smoke and turned to face Ulrich.
"So, have you thought about it carefully?"
Ulrich knew what he meant. However, before giving his answer, he couldn't help but make sure, "You said that I have a choice of becoming a Weaver so as long as I join the Ministry?"
“It's not that simple.” Ottis twitched his lips.
Ulrich questioned his statement, “Can't I just become one?”
Truthfully, he did not expect much. After all, how can it be so easy to become a Weaver? If that was the case, wouldn't one in every ten people wreak havoc across the five luminant?
Ottis paused and turned his head sideways to look at him.
“It’s not that you can’t… It depends on the circumstances…”
What? The change in his words shocked Ulrich. He stared blankly at Ottis before answering, “Really?”
Who are you kidding? Is it so easy to become a Weaver? Ottis laughed lightly, his gray eyes hidden behind the screen of tobacco smoke.
“You don’t believe me? Actually, when you become a Ministry member, you lose an important thing—Freedom."
“Even if we don’t talk about this now, there is another issue. Firstly, you are not a member of the clergy, nor a devotee. You can’t just pick whatever you want or choose the safest approach. This is not an option."
“And secondly…” Ottis tapped his finger on the desk and continued.
“Among the cases that we—Watchmans, the Stormcloaks, the Enforcers, and other Judiciaries—have to deal with annually, at least a quarter is regarding Weavers going insane, or turn into an abominations.”
A quarter… Weavers who go insane, turned into abominations… Ulrich was dumbfounded.
Just then, Ottis turned slightly toward the window, his gray eyes were deep. With no sign of a smile, he continued, “And among the quarter of cases, a large number of them are our own members, which are often beyond our control.”
A wave of tumultuous emotions rose within Ulrich's heart after he heard Ottis's words.
Subconsciously, he uttered, “Why?”
