Sunset had long since faded, leaving only a dusky red-purple glow. A Department carriage rattled over the cobbled roads toward the Old Town District. Inside the enclosed coach, Charles sat across from Joseph, the mood tense.
"So we ended up going back to Bartholomew after all," Charles muttered, recalling the afternoon's events.
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Earlier that day, Joseph had gone alone to see Bartholomew. The method was straightforward: forty crusédo in exchange for a new password – no haggling. Last time, the same amount had bought them both directions and a password; this time, Joseph decided to pay without wasting time arguing.
"If you hand over the pass phrase, we're done," Joseph had told him flatly. "If you refuse, we'll find someone else. Might take a while, but it's doable. The only reason we came to you is that you're easy to track."
Staring at Joseph's serious tone and recalling Charles's presence from before, Bartholomew decided not to push his luck. Making a little gold was better than none.
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"Forty crusédo just for a secret phrase…" Charles grumbled, sinking into his seat. "Good thing we can claim it on the Department's account…"
"At least it's not coming out of anyone's personal pocket this time," Joseph quipped, recalling how he'd had to dig up his own funds previously.
The clatter of the carriage wheels echoed through the darkness as they entered Old Town, where houses were more dilapidated than the central districts. Oily lanterns flickered here and there, painting the streets in faint pools of light.
"You've got the new pass phrase memorized?" Joseph asked, readjusting his sore ankle.
"A lovely lady, silver moonlight in the sky," Charles recited. "Then they answer, 'I favor the stars instead.'"
"That's it," Joseph nodded. "And from what we suspect, whoever tailed us last time is probably someone influential in the black market. The merchants wouldn't have tipped them off otherwise."
Charles gave a thoughtful hum. "How do we identify someone with real influence?"
"By how people react to them." Joseph's voice was subdued. "Influential types get deference—or obsequious flattery."
"And if we spot them?"
"Do nothing rash," Joseph warned. "Just note their faces. We'll figure out how to deal with them later."
Charles was silent for a time, then spoke slowly. "I've got an idea, but it may hurt."
Joseph frowned. "I'm listening."
"We let them take us straight to their lair," Charles said. "If our watchers really work for someone powerful, they'll be on alert tonight. We just play the hapless prey, skulking around suspiciously until we're cornered."
"You're betting they'll make a move?" Joseph said.
"That's right." Charles nodded. "Then we feign a bit of resistance, let them rough us up… but the important part—" He offered a half-smile. "We pretend to lose. If we convincingly go down, they might decide to drag us off to interrogate us somewhere private."
A look of concern crossed Joseph's face. "That's a huge risk. What if they mean to kill rather than capture? You can't count on them 'playing nice.'"
"That's why the act must be convincing," Charles insisted. "First, we talk loudly about having valuable intel from our last black market trip, making it sound like we're clueless about being tailed. Then we rely on my ability to make them fixate on capturing us alive."
Joseph pressed his lips together. "Still too dangerous."
Charles studied his friend a moment. "Do you have a better plan?"
Joseph paused, then shook his head reluctantly. "I did think of spreading some rumors… but the black market never stays in one place for more than a couple of days, always moving to avoid the authorities." He sighed. "But your plan's a gamble."
"All right, let's adjust it," Charles said. "Instead of letting them haul us off, maybe we—"
"We stick to the same script but add safeguards," Joseph cut in. Carefully, he shifted his ankle to a less painful angle. "I'll hang back at a distance where I can still use my power. If anything goes wrong, I'll freeze them in place and come help."
Charles's brow furrowed. "But we've got a new location for the black market. This time, it's in a brothel. You might not even be allowed inside. And can you maintain your range from outside?"
Joseph hesitated, acknowledging the problem. "And beyond that, if I do lock down the entire area, what about all the bystanders—normal people, the women working there? They'll get caught in it, too. That might cause a massive uproar."
"That's what I mean," Charles said gently. "We have to be careful not to cause more chaos than we solve."
Joseph exhaled, closing his eyes. "You're right. I only focused on rescuing you, forgot the collateral damage." He paused for a beat. "Fine. We'll go with your approach. I'll trail you, but not too close. If they knock you out and carry you off—"
"How will you find me?" Charles asked. "It's easy to lose someone in these dark alleys, especially if they know them better than we do."
Joseph smiled briefly. "Remember that pocket watch you got from the Department?" He gestured to Charles's breast pocket. "It has a built-in tracker, so if you ever vanish, we can trace its location. That's how we keep tabs on missing agents."
"You knew that from the start?" Charles arched an eyebrow.
Joseph shrugged. "You never asked."
"Is there anything else I should know?" Charles muttered dryly.
Joseph's expression grew more serious. "Yes. If they remove your watch, keep an eye on whoever takes it."
Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Right. A watch can only tell us where it is, not where I am. If they separate me from it, you'd lose my trail. At least we'd have a lead on whoever carried it away—it might lead us to their leaders."
He glanced out the window, noticing a ramshackle house, memories surfacing unbidden. Something about it reminded him of that place. He looked away and turned to Joseph. "Hey… about that time we escaped that house… do you know what happened afterward?"
Joseph went still. "Are you sure you want to know?"
Charles nodded, voice hushed. "I never dared ask. But now I think I'm ready."
Joseph drew a long breath. "After we signaled for backup… Madame Esther and the Supreme Commander themselves went to handle it."
Charles's eyes flickered. "So… they went into the house and…?"
Joseph's words stumbled as he chose them carefully. "They… had no choice but to deal with that young woman."
Charles shut his eyes, recalling the final glimpse he'd had of her—the girl in white, limbs moving in unnatural ways, every sinew like a blood-red puppet string. "So they killed her."
Joseph nodded painfully. "It was the only way to sever her link to that Grand Vitalis Entity."
"And that entity itself? What happened to it?"
"It tried to break out and harm more people. But the Suppression Division was ready: no one saw it, no one heard its voice. In the end, it faded. Returned to wherever it came from."
"And that house…?"
"Sealed and destroyed," Joseph replied. "Along with… all the bodies in it."
Silence filled the carriage, the only sound the rattling of wheels on stone.
Charles broke the hush softly. "How did that abomination end up there to begin with?"
Joseph let out another sigh. "According to the Supreme Commander's investigation… a band of robbers broke in. They murdered her older sister before her eyes. The mother was driven mad by seeing it happen, so they killed her, too."
Charles said nothing, remembering the two hideously mangled corpses they had found. Those must have been the thieves, forced to kill each other with their own bone-sharpened limbs…
"That poor girl," Joseph continued quietly. "She must have lost her mind. She performed some forbidden ritual—summoning a Grand Vitalis Entity—so she could avenge her family."
"But it wasn't just revenge…" Charles whispered, recalling the savage state of the thieves' remains. Death might have been merciful by comparison.
"Exactly. That being didn't just kill them. It turned the men into puppets, tormenting them for eternity, and reanimated the corpses of her mother and sister to a mockery of life."
"Did she know what she was unleashing?"
"Hard to say," Joseph said, shaking his head. "No mortal really understands what they're calling upon when they invoke a Grand Vitalis. Those powers never grant what you truly want."
Charles's jaw tightened as he remembered that twisted smile, the horrifying illusions that had haunted him night after night.
"Sometimes I wonder if someone could have helped that family earlier," he murmured. "If it could have been prevented—"
Joseph's tone was steady yet sad. "Tragedies happen fast, Charles. Sometimes there's no one there to stop them in time. One horror begets another."
Charles gave a slight nod. Then he gazed out the window. Lanterns glimmered in narrow alleys, the hush of the Old Town heavy with the weight of unspoken histories. Memories of that cursed house lingered in his thoughts, an inescapable scar.
The carriage turned down a cramped alley, passing shops that were shuttering for the night. Darkness pressed in, broken only by the occasional lamp.
"We're here," Joseph announced, pointing to a three-story building up ahead. Red light glowed above the ornate front door.
Charles let out a slow breath, forcing old ghosts from his mind. "Remember," he said. "If anything seems off…"
"I know," Joseph said. "Same goes for you—stay sharp."
As the carriage rolled to a halt, Charles glanced at Joseph, noticing the silver-handled cane. "Your sister… she's an Ascendant, right?"
Joseph nodded, unsurprised. "She told me she'd spoken with you. Don't worry, she's fine with it."
Charles gave a curt nod of relief, stepping off the carriage. He turned back to Joseph, whose eyes flicked to the cane.
"It suits you," Charles teased lightly.
Joseph chuckled. "You wielded it pretty well back then. But I guess I need it more now."
Charles smiled. "Good luck." Then he headed down the cobblestone street. Music and laughter drifted from beyond a large doorway. Charles took a moment to compose himself before walking toward it.
He stepped into the brothel's main salon. The air was thick with perfume and liquor, overshadowed by the hum of conversation and faint, off-key music. Women in bright, revealing dresses wove among tables, escorting clients up the rickety stairs or cajoling them into hidden corners.
Sauntering over to a long wooden bar, Charles ordered a glass of cheap whiskey and let his gaze roam the space. He knew eyes were on him… and that was precisely what he wanted.
When his drink arrived, he lifted it for a slow sip, ready for the night's risky game to begin.