I hadn't been asleep long when it occurred to me that I still needed to force Frederick to answer my question properly.
I opened my eyes and looked at William Helms and Frederick Clayton.
William was reading the newspaper with the kind of intense focus one might reserve for tomorrow's exam. Frederick was staring out the carriage window, lost in thought.
I cleared my throat to get their attention.
Only Frederick turned toward me. William remained buried in his "exam."
I coughed again—louder this time.
William finally lowered the paper, opened his mouth to protest to Frederick for the elbow jab he'd just received, then saw my stare. He gave a few dry coughs, folded the newspaper neatly, and placed it on his lap.
I kept my eyes on him a moment longer.
Then I folded one hand over the other and said,
"Tell me a little more about Celestia."
Frederick smiled—that same gentle, unchanging smile.
"My lord… what has suddenly sparked such interest in religious matters?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but William beat me to it.
"Indeed. As far as I recall, you never paid much attention even to Uire and Ueis—the principal deities of your own house."
I was certain they were trying to corner me.
But why?
I ran a hand through my hair and said,
"No particular reason. I simply became curious."
Frederick kept smiling.
"Yet this subject was once so unimportant to you that you forgot it entirely."
This time I spoke before William could.
"Every human forgets tedious lessons. I'm no exception."
William gave a louder cough.
"My lord, you were the only son of the House of Montagu. From childhood you received rigorous political and cultural instruction… So please stop belittling yourself."
I looked at him.
Why was he taking this so seriously?
I exhaled sharply.
"Fine, fine… But as the Head Butler said, I never cared much for cultural studies. And cultural studies include religion and celestial matters."
William glanced at Frederick, then smiled.
"Yes, yes… quite right, my lord. I misunderstood you."
Well—at least I'd accidentally deflected whatever suspicion William had been harbouring.
I was about to reply when Frederick spoke again.
"So you wished to know about Celestia, correct, my lord?"
I nodded.
"Yes… exactly."
Frederick continued with that same serene smile.
"Celestia is the celestial realm, the heavenly domain—the home of the angels…"
And then he fell silent.
I smiled at him.
"Ah… thank you for the answer."
Frederick inclined his head.
"You're very welcome, my lord. I said nothing special."
He was right—he hadn't said anything special.
He had merely repeated—in more human terms—what I had already read on the plaque and heard in the hall leading to the Celestial Conclave.
So the old man had simply restated the obvious.
I drew a deep breath.
"Do we have any books in the manor that mention Celestia?"
William—who had begun searching his pockets for his missing pipe—answered absently.
"Yes, yes… there is one book in the manor."
Then he returned to patting down his coat.
I looked at Frederick.
"Then when we return, tell the librarian to bring that book to me."
Frederick gave a short, simple nod.
"Yes, my lord. Understood."
I was about to close my eyes again when William suddenly spoke in a strained voice.
"My pipe… it's gone!"
I sighed.
"You're upset over this right now?"
William looked genuinely wounded.
"You don't understand how dear a pipe can become to a man!"
My eyes snapped open. I coughed several times in disbelief and stared straight into his eyes.
"You're being serious?"
William lifted his chin with utmost gravity.
"Of course, my lord. I must go and find my pipe. That pipe is suffering without me!"
I pressed a hand to my mouth, staring at him in astonishment.
Unfortunately, today I learned that love is not limited to humans loving humans, or animals loving animals.
Relationships between humans and objects are possible too—especially when the object is a pipe.
Roughly two minutes later—or perhaps less—the carriage came to a stop in front of the Duke of Liverpool's residence in Mayfair.
This time Frederick stepped out first to inform the Liverpool household butler that I had arrived to call on the duke.
William and I—who had just lost the love of his life (his pipe)—remained inside for about a minute until Frederick returned and instructed the coachman to head for Royal Victoria Dock.
When Frederick climbed back in and took his seat, I asked,
"Why are we going to Royal Victoria Dock?"
Frederick answered with uncanny calm.
"The Duke of Liverpool has gone to the docks. It seems he is attending to some matter there."
I exhaled and closed my eyes, leaning my head against the curtained window.
Then William spoke.
"He has probably gone to deal with the ship that exploded this morning."
My boredom evaporated instantly.
I turned to him.
"Was the ship that exploded and sank at Royal Victoria Dock?"
William met my gaze.
"Yes, my lord."
I glanced at the newspaper he had set beside him, leaned forward quickly, snatched it up.
Both Frederick and William looked at me in surprise.
I held the paper in front of me and opened it.
The second section of the front page was dedicated to the morning's incident at the docks.
I began reading aloud so they could both hear.
"On the twenty-third of March 1879, a vessel at Royal Victoria Dock suffered a catastrophic boiler explosion due to excessive pressure and sank before fire brigades could arrive. The accident occurred at approximately 8:30 this morning…"
I stared at the page for a moment, then quietly folded the paper and tossed it toward William.
Silence settled inside the carriage.
Then William asked,
"What cargo was the ship carrying?"
I looked at him.
"Read it yourself. I don't have the patience anymore."
William checked his watch, then said,
"Very well, my lord…"
He reopened the paper and read the next line with visibly widening eyes.
"The vessel's cargo consisted of oil, tar, and sulphate…"
Frederick's eyes widened too.
I barely managed to contain my own shock.
"So after the ship sank, that cargo either sank with it or caught fire… Does the paper give an estimated loss?"
William glanced back at the page, murmured under his breath, coughed once, then read aloud.
"Combining the loss of the vessel itself and the cargo, the estimated economic damage to the nation stands at £85,000…"
After hearing the figure I could no longer hide my astonishment.
I stared at William with wide eyes.
"Tear that newspaper in half so I can pretend you never read it."
William gave a frightened smile and tore the paper down the middle.
I kept staring.
"Again."
He aligned the torn halves and tore it once more.
I smiled.
"Good boy… Shame we don't have your pipe—we could have burned it."
William forced another smile.
"When do I receive my wages?"
I grinned.
"If this is about buying a new pipe, probably sometime next century."
William's expression suddenly returned to normal.
"No… it's for myself."
I stared at him.
"Fine. I'll give you a little pocket money."
William exhaled deeply.
"Very well… I want to buy a pipe."
Frederick finally recovered from the shock of the dock incident and the staggering economic loss.
"But you already have four other pipes in the drawer of your room!"
William shot Frederick a sidelong glance, crossed one leg over the other, and turned to stare out the window.
Frederick shook his head slightly.
I gave them both a half-glance, smiled faintly, and closed my eyes again—hoping to sleep.
I don't know how much time passed before Frederick's voice woke me.
"My lord, we have arrived at Royal Victoria Dock…"
I looked at him, stretched my arms to shake off the lingering drowsiness, then rose and stepped out of the carriage.
William was already outside. When he saw me emerge he said,
"Forgive my presumption, my lord… but are you the Sleeping Duke?"
I glanced at him, straightened my coat, and asked,
"Why?"
William looked me up and down.
"You slept the entire seven-hour journey from Manchester to London!"
I stared at him for a moment, then gave a short, silent laugh.
He was right.
The title "Sleeping Duke" suited me far better than I cared to admit.
After the brief laugh I said,
"No… and you'd do well not to dwell on it."
William opened his mouth to reply when a voice called from a distance.
"Hello, Elias…"
I turned.
It was him—Geoffrey Jenkinson, Duke of Liverpool.
An old friend of the original Elias.
I smiled and walked toward him.
When we met I shook his hand and said,
"I came to see you about something… Geoffrey Jenkinson."
His eyes widened slightly.
"You used my full name. This must be serious."
I smiled.
"Yes… very serious."
Geoffrey glanced around.
"It's too crowded here. Let's go to the Royal Victoria Dock administration building."
I smiled again and followed him.
One could say I had lied to him.
Because the "serious matter" I had come to discuss was attending the wedding of a baron.
Wow—what an incredibly important topic indeed.