164 - Security (Patreon)

The inside of this building looked markedly different than the rest. Instead of gold and ivory, there was a distinct wooden aesthetic, vines woven through pillars in a manner reminiscent of Vittoria’s signature design. The center of the reception hall featured a sweeping spiral staircase that went all the way up to the ceiling, splitting the building into two parts, one side featuring red oak, the other a muted burgundy. Underneath it was a twinkling marbled water fountain, with golden fish swimming within and coffers on the ground accepting coin offerings. 

Heavy velvet draped over the windows, and paintings hung over wood panels, bookshelves extending from ceilings and glass panes overlooking a rose garden in the back. Sliding doors separated each room from the reception hall, with an empty table to the side and a bell on it.  

“What is this place?” Arielle asked. 

“It’s our private wellness building,” Wulfric responded, walking over to encircle the bell without ringing it. “Sometimes guests like to use it. My brother also comes here when he needs to think. I like to use the indoor pool to pretend to be a merman luring innocent fish to their doom.”

“You swim with fish?”

“Yes. It’s soothing.” 

Arielle didn’t know about that. She had swum in the Bog once, but it had not been intentional, nor had it been particularly relaxing. 

“Do you know how to swim?” Wulfric asked. 

She nodded. “Yes. Everyone in Fenway Basin must learn to swim at age three just in case we ever fall into the Bog.”

“What’s the Bog?”

“It’s what we call the blackwater swamp lake that moves through Fenway and into the forest. It separates our Basin from the next. Sometimes we get river nomads sailing on it and other times we get bogworms.”

"No idea what a bogworm is, but that sounds...fun.” Wulfric tugged at his earlobe. “And have you ever fallen in before?”

“Yes,” she said. “It was most decidedly not fun.” Despite their training, the bog was so difficult to swim in, mostly because of the heaviness of the water and the algae, which made it hard to resurface after one had fallen in. After Arielle almost drowned the one time, her family had given her extra swimming lessons, in case it ever happened again. 

However, the real danger of the bog lay in the creatures rumored to be within, and the fact that no one knew how deep it went. 

A few people had drowned in the Bog, and their bodies were never found again. It was said that their souls were trapped there, calling out for help, vindictively dragging down anyone who fell in as revenge for their cries going unanswered–which was partially why the water was so heavy and dark. 

Most people avoided a swim whenever they could, but the problem was that it was everywhere and sometimes, particularly during the hotter months, moss and thick patches of earth would grow on the surface, tricking weary travellers on dark nights into thinking that it was solid ground. 

"Let me show you the spa," Wulfric said as he walked toward the staircase.

"Okay." Arielle followed him. There didn't seem to be much in terms of security spells in this building. She doubted that she would find what she was looking for here. 

“The statue outside,” Arielle said, recovering her initial query. “What is it?"

“You mean who is it?” Wulfric glanced back, though the statue was no longer in view. “Probably one of our wayward relatives.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“No."

"Do you know what it's for?"

"No. Why would I?”

“Because it’s your home,” she said. “It's odd that you don't know more about your home."

He shrugged. “It’s just the place I lay my head for now, and it probably won’t even be mine for long. Edward’s going to be Lord soon, and this manor, along with most of our father’s properties, goes to him.”

Arielle cocked her head. “And what goes to you?”

“Whatever they deign to give me, I suppose.” 

"Will you be left destitute?" 

"No." He gave her a surprised look and a bark of laughter. "My father's not heartless. I will get some land and probably a home of my own, just nothing compared to what Edward receives."

“Oh. That hardly seems fair.”

“It’s as fair as it can get. My mother and I get to live with the Lord's family, and inherit some property at least. I get to attend one of the best magical institutions in the world and make connections within the gentry. My mother even got a title out of it. I'm luckier than most bastards, I suppose.”

The pause after allowed Arielle to digest his words and think of what to say next. The dean had told her that when someone said a lot about something, it tended to mean that it was a topic that they cared about. When they were short in their answers, it meant that they either did not care or were not comfortable speaking on it. 

Wulfric had given detailed sentences about his background and being a bastard. His expression was flat, but the dean said some people were not expressive, especially about things that they had forced themselves to accept. 

Ari herself didn't care one way or the other about Wulfric being a bastard, but in polite conversation, she should pretend. She should find a related topic, contributing from a similar yet distinct angle that she was somewhat knowledgeable enough about. 

“Over fifty percent of kings in modern fables are bastards.”

Wulfric's eyebrows shot up, and he stopped midway up the staircase. 

“In fact, there are more stories about bastards than there are about legitimate heirs, at least in modern legend,” she continued. “Some end up killing the legitimate heir and taking his place. But a fair amount are the heroes of the story, ousting a previously tyrannical king and ascending for the good of the people. For example, King Maxim the Giant Slayer was a bastard. His nickname was even the Red-Haired Bastard."

“I’m sorry.” Wulfric held up a hand. “Are you implying that I’m going to kill my brother or oust my father?”

“No,” she said. “Simply stating an interesting fact about other famous bastards. To demonstrate that you're in good company."

"With brother-killers and father-ousters?"

"Yes but to be clear, the brothers and fathers often deserve it."

He opened his mouth, and closed it again, looking fairly perplexed. 

"I thought this might be a topic that interested you." She waited, folding her hands in front of her as doubt seeped in. "Does it not?" Had she gotten it wrong?

He didn't seem to know how to answer that, although a slow smile was spreading on his lips. 

"I guess it does," he said, a twinkle in his eyes. "So you read a lot of stories about bastards?"

"Not a lot. Just a fair amount."

“And why do you think that is, that a fair amount of such tales feature bastards?"

She shrugged. “Probably because bastards are more interesting. They are somehow both nobles and commoners, yet not really either. I suppose that makes them more exciting and unpredictable protagonists. 

"Exciting and unpredictable, huh?" He leaned against the railing with a smirk on his face–the annoying one that made his face look lopsided. 

“Stop that,” she ordered before she could catch herself. When she did, his smile dropped, and she realized how rude she sounded. “Sorry. It’s just that...your smile makes your face look weird.”

“It does?"

She nodded hesitantly. 

He put a hand up to the corner of his mouth, a puzzled expression on his face. “I’ve been told I have a great smile.”

“Your other smile is okay. This one’s annoying.” 

"I have another one?"

"Yes."

Arielle figured she’d appeased his interest in bastards enough, so as he blinked at her in stupefaction, she asked again, “Do you really not know anything about the statue outside? Not even a name?” The statue didn't have any distinct features that she could use to identify it by. It simply looked like a short man, or maybe even a child, in a shirt, waistcoat and breeches.

Wulfric shook his head. 

She sighed. 

One of the things that Vittoria had stressed was for Ari not to ask too many questions, as that could come across as suspicious and might indicate an outsized interest in something.

“Do you want me to ask my brother?” Wulfric wondered aloud. “He’d probably know.”

“No, that's alright.” That was the right answer, Arielle knew, although it was said through gritted teeth. 

“Liar." He grinned. "You want me to ask him, don't you?

“You really do not have to.”

“I know.  But you want me to.”

Arielle bit the inside of her cheek and finally settled for a shrug, which made Wulfric laugh for some reason. 

When he was done, the amusement remained on his face, and Arielle thought this would be the best time to tell him. 

"This smile is better than the other one,” she said, and his face went slack, redness filling his cheeks. 

"It is?"

She nodded, and then walked away, continuing up the stairs.

It took a few seconds before he caught up with her, and he showed her where the spa was and also the indoor pool, which was indeed flowing with little golden fish. 

Before they left, Arielle paid closer attention to the bookshelves, the paintings, the doors, and even the aquarium in one of the rooms, but nothing here indicated any complex secret spells. 

Somehow, her mind kept nudging her back to that statue. 

What was that odd feeling she'd gotten when she stared at it? It felt familiar. It felt like...

That was it. 

It was like what she'd felt when she'd stared at the statue in Khor. The statue of the Black Knight in Khor had also given her a similar feeling of unease…or was it unease? It was something interesting, something remarkably familiar as well, but she wasn’t sure unease was the right word. And unlike the figure in Khor, this one had several spells protecting it. 

Why? What made it so important?

After they were done with that building, Ari and Wulfric walked out.

"Anywhere else in particular you want to see?" Wulfric asked her 

“Do you have any treasure rooms?” she asked. She figured if there were more highly advanced security spells, that would be where it was. 

“Why? Are you planning to rob us?”

“No,” she said. "If I were, I wouldn’t warn you.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “The Black-Haired Bastard will lead the way.” 

"You don't have to keep calling yourself that," Ari told him.

"On the contrary," he said. "I don't think I'll call myself anything else for a while." Then he winked, and Arielle involuntarily made a look of disgust, which made him laugh again. 

Wulfric led her to the treasure room, which was in the first building, the same one they'd had breakfast in, on the topmost floor. He didn't take her through the grand door, as only his father had access, but that wasn't necessary anyway. 

Arielle instantly spotted what was wrong.

The security spell on this floor was extremely sensitive to foreign presence, particularly that of foreign magic users. Once they showed up, it registered Arielle as an interloper, and immediately began the process of sending out an alarm. Then, a fraction of a second later, it read Wulfric's magical signature which settled the alarm, but that involved breaking the initial alarm spell it had created, and the break wasn't that clean.    

It was a long, extended, and powerful snap, and it was one that could very easily trigger a manaling to be formed.

The inefficiency was baked into the spell, so to fix it she would have to separate the entire spell and put it back together in a different configuration. She would also need to evaluate it for some time to ensure that there were no hidden tricks or redundancies that would set the alarm off once she split the spell apart, like what the spell at the demonic sect would have done if she had fallen for it. 

It didn't seem like it at first glance. It was a far more straightforward protection spell than what Yseult had concocted. But there were sections of the spell that seemed ancient and had a strange signature too.

"How often do you all bring people here?"

"Often enough. My father likes to show off when we have visitors."

"Who designed your security system?"

"Why?"

"It's inefficient," she said. "And old."

"How do you know?"

"I heard a slight whine when we arrived," she said. "The alarm almost went off, didn't it?"

"Yes." Wulfric blinked at her. "It does that all the time, although I barely hear it. Only my father does. But the previous security master said he couldn't fix it without demolishing the walls, as the spell is part of this building and a holdover from the previous generational spell that governed this whole estate."

"From the cousin that went sailing and never came back?"

"Yes. He was also apparently a paranoid, odd man."

"Hmm." Arielle probably couldn't fix it right now, and even if she could, it would not be wise to do so. It would be too suspicious. She instead had to come back later or attempt to fix it from outside. 

Or...

"I think I know someone who can help." Perhaps she could come back in disguise with Vittoria.  

"Who?" Wulfric asked.

"I'll tell you later." She needed time to come up with a good name for a security spell-master. "But they're a genius. They can fix things like this fairly easily."

He stared at her oddly, and Arielle looked away instantly and started out. 

He followed her back down and asked, "Is there anything else you want to see?" 

"No," she said. "I think I've seen enough." 

***

As the day wore on, Edward found himself wandering to the kitchen for a bite to eat. 

It was almost time for the early guests to start arriving, and about four or so hours until the ball started. His father was taking a nap, and his mother was surveying the grounds to ensure that there were no last-minute changes needed. 

He expected to find the kitchen in chaos as it usually was before a big event. 

Instead, he found most of the staff huddled together talking at the sole empty table.

“So?” the cook asked. “Was I right? Was she awful?”

“No," Montfort responded in a low tone. He was the only one not in the huddle. While he was speaking, he strolled, inspecting the food and the cutlery that had been laid out across the vast kitchen. "It’s hard to say, but I do not feel she's as they say. On the contrary, actually. She seemed quite pleasant. Very attentive.”

“And who was the boy she showed up with?” a scullery maid inquired in a whisper. “Was he the one she picked over the young master?”

“Impossible,” another maid said. “The boy seems to be a commoner, and not nearly as handsome as the young master.”“As far as I can tell they are school friends,” a footman said. “And she cares a great deal about him. She was more excited about his arrival, than just about anything else.”

"The girl is odd," the groundskeeper added in a hushed tone. "She was walking around the compound doing nothing but staring in the air and smiling to herself." 

"So she likes to walk, and we have a beautiful compound. She complimented it several times, actually." Montfort’s words were accompanied by a small, satisfied smile. 

"That's not the point."

"Oh. Then enlighten me, what's the point?"

"I think she's quite a charming young lady," the chef said with a shrug. 

"A charming odd young lady," the groundskeeper insisted. 

"Aren't you supposed to be cleaving the manalings before the guests arrive?" Montfort demanded, then finally caught sight of Edward at the entrance and stiffened, bowing. 

Of course, the rest of the crew were too engaged in their gossip to see him, and the groundskeeper continued, "I would, but the strangest thing happened. Not a single one today."

"What do you mean?"

"I surveyed the entire compound, nearly all the way up to the hill, and didn't find a single manaling." He shrugged. "There's nothing to cleave."

Montfort's jaw dropped in a gape. His eyes immediately snapped to Edward again who was just as shocked at the unprecedented news. 

At no point, not even during their absence, did they not accumulate manalings on a weekly basis.

Their gazes held as they recalled what happened this morning, Arielle Blacksoil's preoccupation with their waste management system and leylines. 

The butler and Edward stared at each other right as everyone in the room began to notice Edward's presence, immediately falling silent and bowing. 

And then at some point Wulfric walked in, already speaking:

“There you are, Ed. I've been looking for you. I have to ask...." He seemed to realize, at that point, just how quiet the kitchen was and asked, “What?”