Chapter 14

“This is more serious than either of us expected. Next to Margaret, these ledgers are nothing.” Quentin said, closing the books and pushing them towards Wil.

“Maybe. It’s only a few additional leads, a handful nobles she brought into their group. The main actors are too well hidden. She gave me some of their names, but none I recognize. Maybe Markus will have better luck tracking them down when I meet with him.” Wil replied, looking out of the window of Annabelle’s office.

The port was busy today, filled with ships coming and going. He could see their white sails on the horizon, sailing to all corners of the world.

“Do you think you’re right? That they’re connected to whoever caused Aachen’s fall?” Quentin asked in a concerned tone.

A small ceremony conducted by a few individuals had led to an undead scourge that destroyed one of the most prosperous ports in Illyria. If the same thing happened again, there would be no telling how large the destruction could be. It could engulf the entire continent.

“I don’t know. The letters Margaret received had been vague, referencing things they had only discussed in person. She did reveal they were well funded, her services had earned her quite a bit of coin.”

“I imagine introductions to noble circles willing to sell their souls for more power doesn’t come cheap.” Quentin replied dryly.

“Perfect for her, I’ve never met anyone more connected. And they knew just how to entice her, promising greater titles, for both her and her mother.”

“Could your father be one of the financiers? The ledgers point to large expenses with no clear source, hidden in ‘investment’ losses and other things. If he is involved, they could have tens of thousands of gold coins.” Quentin had combed through the ledgers, only turning up a few oddities.

Things on the surface looked fine, the Brookmoor Estate was still profitable, but she had doubts about their actual reserves. Without seeing their vaults, however, she was unable to provide Wil with any more information.

Wil sighed, rubbing his eyes. He was tired, the multiple teleportation spells, combined with the long day, were taking a toll on him. He still had to return to the estate, to return the ledgers before his father returned.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it pass Tabitha to scheme to bring about a disaster like Aachen. She would dance on the world’s grave if given the opportunity. But Father is more…pragmatic. There is nothing to gain in a calamity. If he is involved, he may not understand the true extent of what these people are capable of.” Wil reasoned.

“Perhaps they promised him something similar to Margaret? Greater Titles in exchange for his financial assistance? Tabitha is marrying the Third Prince. His grandchild, if he ever has one, would be part of the Royal Family.” Quentin stated, thinking about what the Earl could be after.

“Or, with the right manipulations and ‘accidents’, the ‘Third’ Prince could become the ‘Only’ Prince. Tabitha would be Empress Consort, and a Brookmoor grandchild would sit on the throne.” Wil finished, not turning away from the window.

He wished he had never returned. He detested all of this. The Wilds were so much simpler, danger was upfront and direct.

“When will you meet with Markus?” Quentin asked.

“He didn’t say. He’s being much more circumspect than me. I doubt he’ll be happy with me questioning Margaret without him.”

“It was a risk. And now you can add kidnapping to the list of charges against you.” Quentin replied dryly.

Margaret was too big of a liability to leave free, but she was too useful to eliminate, not until he had more information. For now, she was tucked away safely inside the Toy House he had received from Tessa, years before. It acted as a Demiplane, keeping her contained and safe, but unable to escape.

“If that’s all I have to worry about once this is over, then I’ll accept that. I need to go.” Wil replied, checking the time, and standing. Scooping up the ledgers, he placed them back in his bag of holding.

“Be careful, Wil. Let me know if there is anything else I can help you with.” Quentin responded, concerned.

“I will.” He answered, flashing her a smile, before disappearing in a flash of magic.

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It was surreal to be back in his old room after so long away. It was stark and bare, all his personal items long gone. It could have belonged to a stranger.

He had returned the ledgers, putting everything back in order as best as he could. His father would likely know he was in the study, the man was keen like that, but hopefully he wouldn’t know how far Wil had gone in his snooping.

Stripping off his armor, he crawled into the bed, the soft down mattress sinking beneath his weight. Exhausted, he fell into a deep sleep.

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Markus turned his attention back to the path ahead of him. His father had insisted on riding back to the estate, wanting the speed of horses over the slow-moving carriage. His sister, Tabitha, remained in the Capital.

She claimed that she had wedding preparations in the city, but Markus suspected that she had other reasons to remain. His investigations had turned up a number of suspicious events that his sister had been a part of. She frequently disappeared from their family’s manor in the Capital for long periods of time, often at Night, without her servants or retainers.

He had paid people to follow her, but they turned up nothing, Tabitha was skilled in evading them. It didn’t help that she was Rank 10, and a skilled mage, an expert in Abjuration and Evocation. He even suspected she knew Necromancy, but he had little proof of that fact.

With Wil’s impending return, he had hoped they could stop whatever foolishness their father had planned, to talk some sense into him. As for Tabitha, Markus didn’t have many expectations for her. She had become increasingly unhinged, her moods ranging from icy disregard to sudden violence. What the Third Prince saw in her, he would never understand.

The poor fool was smitten by her. He composed poetry for her and paid to have it read in the streets. He sent gifts to her daily, sometimes wagon loads, all as a ‘demonstration’ of his love.

But what was truly concerning was her response. Tabitha was nice to him. She responded to his romance with her own sweet words, returning his affection wholeheartedly. If Markus hadn’t known her his entire life, he would have been fooled. Instead, it led him to look at the marriage cynically.

His father and Tabitha were planning something, and he was determined to find out what.

They reached the estate, dismounting and allowing the stable hands to lead their horses away. Entering their home, Greaves met them at the entrance.

“Milord.” The older man said, giving a bow.

Markus could spot the lingering injuries from his father’s ‘discipline’, delivered after the Earl had caught Greaves investigating their activities on Markus’ behalf. The old retainer had kept silent, taking the blame, while Markus had watched helplessly.

“Has Wilhelm returned? Or do I need to send someone more competent to retrieve him?” Tiberius asked, tossing his riding cloak and gloves to a waiting servant.

“He arrived yesterday, milord.”

“Good. Have him sent to my study. It’s time that his obstinance comes to an end.” The Earl ordered.

“He’s already waiting for you, Milord.” Greaves replied, waiting for the eruption.

“And you allowed him into my study without my leave?” Tiberius asked, his tone sharp and cold.

“Milord, aside from Markus, no one in the Estate would be able to stop him. He’s…significantly stronger than we last saw.” Greaves explained. Markus lifted an eyebrow at that. He was Rank 17, one of the strongest people in Illyria.

Could Wil have reached a similar level? It seemed impossible, even if he did spend nearly a decade traveling and fighting.

Ignoring the old retainer, Tiberius Brookmoor walked to the stairs leading to his second-floor study, his boots ringing against the marble floors. Markus cautiously walked behind him, waiting for his father to comment that his presence wasn’t necessary.

To his surprise, no such thing happened, and the pair reached the closed study door. Pushing it open, Tiberius was taken aback by the appearance of his younger son. Seated calmly on a chair beside the large, open window, he was relaxing with an open book on his lap, the morning sun shining down on him.

Wil had grown older, his black hair long, framing his tanned face perfectly. Dressed in casual clothing, he had a refined and noble air about him. Looking up from his book, his piercing blue eyes focused on the pair.

“Hello Father.”