Dawn had barely stirred when Arthus opened his eyes.
The gaslight in his North Borough mansion still glowed low, its flame muted beneath frosted glass. Rain ticked gently against the panes, a steady, soothing rhythm that echoed through the quiet halls. He rose without haste, movements deliberate. No alarm clock. No servant's knock. His body moved by the precision of an internal mechanism.
"I guess sleeping early does wonders for your body" said Arthus to no one in particular.
He padded barefoot to the sitting room where he found Sebas. He asked him for a simple breakfast, while he did that he quickly went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face to freshen up. When he returned he saw that Sebas had brought a kettle that was already warming. He then set a tray. Arthus saw a cup of strong black tea and thin slices of buttered rye toast.
Today was going to be a busy day. All the work he had put off yesterday he would have to do it today, alongside today's work as well. He took a sip from the tea cup and couldn't help but let out a sigh. Arthus settled by the window, sipping slowly. The early city was little more than drifting fog and the distant clang of gears echoing from the Iron Docks.
After taking 20 minutes to eat his breakfast, he made his way back to his dressing room to get fully dressed. After he was dressed, Sebas brought him the day's correspondence that included sealed letters, commercial reports.
Arthus scanned them quickly, eyes dancing over the ciphered lines. Its main point was unusual activity in Pritz Harbor's southern warehouse district. That was a bit concerning.
He made his way outside following Sebas, accompanied by Elias and the company. Sebas soon went to call a carriage. He soon returned and guided him into one. Sebas told the driver to set off for East Borough's cleaner docks. That's where the offices for Nachthelm & Co Logistics were located. The carriage finally started moving and pulled away from the curb, its wheels slick against the wet cobblestones. The driver said nothing. Arthus preferred it that way.
They soon reached their destination. A modest three-floor building. Arthus instructed Elias and the company to stand guard outside the building. Soon he made his way in and was greeted by his three key department heads standing ready. Merson, for freight coordination; Elric, for security; and Miss Gladwyn, who handled accounts with the precision of a professional.
The meeting room was already prepared, maps unfurled, inkpots uncapped.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen" he said politely before seating himself at the head of the table.
He was then quickly briefed on their current situation. He wasn't really paying attention since he was accompanied by Sebas who had handled the business for about four years and three months. Arthus only started getting more involved 9 months ago when he turned 17. Even now he couldn't do it all by himself without Sebas helping him out.
The main points were as follows, a shipment from Pritz delayed by fog, a discussion of unrest caused by an ex-sailor turned local thug along the coastal road near Pritz harbour and a minor theft in a dock warehouse with the suspect apprehended.
He already knew that from Sebas but knowing that the suspect had been apprehended relieved him. Arthus listened without interruption.
The meeting concluded swiftly. By 10:00 he was in his office behind a desk, sleeves rolled slightly as he combed through paperwork that included cargo manifests, insurance records, payment ledgers, including a falsified invoice he personally drafted to conceal a let's just say an item of a rather unique interest. It was bound for a discreet client with unique hobbies. Arthus wasn't the one to judge so it didn't faze him at all.
Soon he heard someone knocking on the door.
"Yes" answered Arthus without looking at who entered.
"My Lord, the clock just struck 12:30. You should take a break, I have brought lunch for you" arrived Sebas with a tray looking very proud. The tray had a delicate porcelain plate of blackcurrant scones still warm from the oven, and a small dish of clotted cream beside a jar of wildflower honey and a cup of sweet milk tea. The scent was comforting. Arthus made space for the tray by moving all the paperwork in their designated file and placing it in a drawer.
Arthus stirred the cup of sweetened milk tea, letting the ritual of it slow his thoughts. No paperwork, no telegrams, no analysis, just the tender crunch of a scone breaking in half, cream and honey spread with deliberate care.
After having his lunch, he went for a walk to the docks. He reached there by roughly around 1 o'clock. The smell of tar, brine, and smoke was stronger here. Sailors hauled crates under shouts, while porters worked double time. Arthus walked the yard with a gloved hand behind his back, offering quiet nods to foremen and the occasional question to junior clerks. He paused beside a sealed crate, touched it briefly.
Later.
At 3:00, he hosted his client.
It was the steward of Lord Fermont, eager to ensure a "certain heirloom" made it safely to his coastal manor without attracting attention. Arthus offered reassurances.
By 4:30, the day's final approvals were completed. He sealed documents and left standing instructions for a discreet shipment to be moved after midnight to Lord Fermont's mansion.
By 6:00, he returned home. The townhouse was quiet. He removed his coat and gloves with practiced care. He took a short nap until 8 o'clock only to be woken up by Sebas for dinner. He refreshed himself and made his way to the dining hall.
Dinner was quiet, but not joyless.
The dining room was lit by a single chandelier, its golden light softening the edges of the mahogany table. Arthus sat at one end, as always, with a modest meal laid before him: creamy leek and potato soup, freshly baked herb-studded bread, and for dessert, a dish of vanilla-poached pears, their syrup glinting like amber in the light.
He ate unhurriedly, savoring the contrast, the warmth of the soup, the crust of the bread, the delicate sweetness of the pears.
There was no conversation, no clinking of glasses or clatter of cutlery beyond his own. But there was calm. A sense of control in the silence. Elias and the company had already eaten outside while waiting for me to finish my work and had no appetite left for more food.
After the last bite, he lingered a moment, fingers wrapped around a cup of chamomile tea, staring into the quiet flicker of the hearth across the room.
He noticed there was a lack of entertainment in his life. He had books in his small personal library but most of them he had already read. Perhaps he should ask Sebas to restock the shelves. Then he remembered, Fors Wall was an author right? Why not read her books? He doesn't remember her pen name but didn't Audrey invite her to her Ball somehow? Whatever, he'll just ask Sebas to buy books from the author named Fors Wall.
He then made his way to his bedroom changing into his sleeping gown. There were still four days before the anticipated Monday. No, don't think of anything else at the moment. Said Arthus to himself in his heart, starting his routine of imagining cats. It had become a ritual at this point. At least the dreams were pleasant. Thinking that he went to sleep.
…
The days passed in a measured rhythm structured silence.
Mornings came as the pale light of Backlund skies filtered through soot-streaked glass, and Arthus rose as he always did before the streets had stirred. Each day folded into itself like a well-kept ledger, paperwork reviewed by gaslight, shipments tracked by the minute, a thousand small decisions made with mechanical efficiency.
He met with dockmasters, corrected errors in the warehouse accounts, and once even walked quite a distance to personally confirm a shipment's safe loading. The routine kept him grounded.
He wondered what Alger had discovered, if anything. He replayed the man's struggle to hold his laughter at the name High Priestess, the confusion behind his eyes when he realized Arthus wasn't a woman, the way Audrey had politely pretended not to stare.
Soon it was Monday and the time dangerously close to the next meeting of the Tarot club. Arthus politely reminded Sebas not to disturb him for the next hour and to not let anyone in his office.
The meeting was about to begin.
And he was ready.