In the warmth of the inn’s dining hall, the group gathers around a modest wooden table, plates of warm bread and porridge before them. The three recount the events of the previous day, but up to a point. The strange boy from the circus is left unspoken, tucked away in the silence between sentences.
“You lot went to the circus?” Aurelien dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin, eyes bright with nostalgia. “I haven’t seen one in years. I do miss it.”
Finn chuckles and throws a teasing glance Risa’s way. “We can take you, if you like. Risa hasn’t stopped thinking about that show since yesterday.”
Risa lets out a small, sheepish laugh, cheeks pink.
“Tempting,” Aurelien says, “but I’d rather pay my friend a visit first. I sent her a message pigeon before I left. She should be expecting us today.”
After breakfast, they make their way to Evelyn’s residence. The journey isn’t quick. She lives far from the city centre, in the quieter fringe where the roads are narrower, and the noise of the market is replaced by the whistle of the wind.
“She doesn’t care for crowds,” Aurelien explains as they sit in a city carriage drawn by two horses. “She settled in this city because it’s a merchant’s hub. Easier to get her hands on rare ingredients.”
Outside the window, the city’s bustle fades, buildings growing fewer and shorter. The occasional merchant cart rattles by, but soon even those disappear. Snow thickens on the ground as they ride, blanketing the cobbled path in white silence.
Eventually, the carriage stops in front of a two-storey wooden house standing alone, tucked between skeletal trees and a low stone fence half-buried in snow. A gentle wind carries the smell of cedar and frost.
Aurelien narrows her eyes. “Strange… Evelyn never lets snow pile up like that. She hates it when her yard isn’t clean.”
The house is sealed with arcane locks that shimmer faintly on the gate, and a translucent barrier hums around the perimeter.
Finn steps closer and spots something pasted on the gate. A rather new poster, edges curling from the damp.
Looking for a buyer. See the seller at XXX, beside the Hunter’s Guild.
From The Brass Ledger
Aurelien purses her lips, unreadable. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’ll speak with the seller first.”
Her voice is calm, but firm. Time has taught her when to act with emotion and when to wait for clarity. The others agree without hesitation.
They return to the city centre, where the carriage wheels clatter over stones slick with slush. Following the coachman’s directions, they soon find the shop: The Brass Ledger.
It looks out of place among the polished storefronts and tidy facades. Its wooden sign hangs crookedly, and grime fogs the windows. Paint peels at the corners, and a faint metallic scent clings to the air.
Finn knocks on the door.
“We’re here to speak to the seller of the wooden house on the outskirts,” he calls out.
Heavy footsteps thunder from within. The door swings open with an abrupt creak, revealing a young man with messy green hair, his shirt untucked and his jeans frayed at the knees.
“Finally—I mean—right this way, please,” he stammers. “The Proprietor will see you.”
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Finn steps inside first, and the others close behind. The air inside is thick with dust and the musk of old parchment. Shelves groan under the weight of ledgers, scales, and ancient-looking coin counters. The furniture, if one could call it that, is half-buried in sheaves of yellowed paper.
“I’m Finn. May I ask your name?” Finn offers a polite smile.
The young man scratches the back of his head, clearly unused to formality. “Just—call me Yorik.” He hastily clears off the couch, scattering papers in all directions. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll fetch the Proprietor.”
They sit while Yorik disappears into the back room.
Moments later, the door swings open again. Yorik returns, trailing a towering man with sun-darkened skin and a build like a fortress. The man’s presence fills the room, and Finn tenses instinctively, a ward spell waiting at his fingertips.
And the man smiles, wide and surprisingly warm.
“Mr Finn. Been a long while since we had visitors. I’m Maunther—the Proprietor.” He extends a large hand.
Finn exhales, relieved, and takes it. “Pleased to meet you. We’re inquiring about a property—Evelyn’s house. Madam Aurelien here is an old friend of the owner.”
Aurelien rises, poise composed. “Good day, Mr Maunther. Evelyn isn’t the type to leave her home, let alone sell it. I’d appreciate it if you could tell us what happened.”
Maunther gestures to the seats again. “Please, sit. I’ll explain.”
They do. Maunther remains standing for a beat, then finally speaks.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of this, but… your friend passed away.”
The words fall like stones into water. The room seems to be still.
Risa gasps, hand at her chest.
“She pawned her magical items to us,” Maunther continues. “Later, even her home. Said she needed the coin. Honestly, I thought her artefacts would be worth something. But no one wanted to touch them. Too afraid of the curse when the owner is not around."
Aurelien lets her eyelids fall shut. The others turn to her, waiting. When she lifts her gaze again, sorrow lingers unmistakably, yet a gentle resolve steadies her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. When you’ve lived this long, you learn to say farewell more times than you’d like.”
Then to Maunther: “Give me the price of the house and everything she pawned.”
Greed sparks in his eyes. He snaps his fingers. “Yorik! Bring me the contract and the list!”
Yorik hurries off and returns with papers and a counter. He lays out the items one by one:
- Cursebinder's Lens
- Wyrmglass Vials
- Gravechalk & Ash Salt
- Soul-Prism Compass
- Scribe’s Thorn
...and more.
At the end of the list is the house itself.
“All of it,” Maunther declares, “for fifty thousand coins.”
Aurelien’s brows lift. That price is a pittance. Any one of those items should fetch double.
“Why did Evelyn need money urgently?” she asks softly.
Maunther scratches his chin. “Rumour is she took in a street orphan. A boy with snake scales on his chest. People said he was cursed. Might be she needed rare ingredients to cure him.”
Finn stiffens. “Would you know where the boy is now?”
Maunther sighs. “No idea. When we came to seal the house, he fought back. Nasty little thing—bit me here.” He rolls up his sleeve to show a scar on his arm.
“Did you…subdue him?” Risa asks cautiously.
Maunther waves a hand. “No, no. We’re not thugs. We just called the knights. And they ‘escorted’ him off the property.”
“You don’t know where he went?”
“Afraid not.”
The discussion circles once more to the sale. Maunther leans in, his words quick and insistent, desperate to be free of the cursed goods.
Aurelien offers her thanks, explaining she needs time to weigh the offer. As they prepare to depart, Maunther gestures to Yorik, requesting he summon a carriage for their journey.
As they rattle through the city, Finn casts a masking spell, sealing the sound from within.
"Madam Aurelien… I’m sorry we didn’t tell you everything from the start," he says quietly. "Last night at the circus, we saw a boy covered in wounds, with snake-like scales across his chest. We think it’s him."
Aurelien blinks, then offers a gentle nod. “I understand. Trust is hard to give to strangers. And above all, Risa’s safety from her curse must come first.”
She turns to Risa and takes her hand. “Risa… I’m sorry for giving you false hope.”
But Risa shakes her head. “Don’t apologise, Madam. Let’s find the boy. If he’s cursed and hurt, we have to help.”
Finn nods. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we return to the circus.”