Episode 40
For an instant, Quido felt as though he had taken a sharp blow to the back of the head. It was a sensation entirely foreign to him, and he found himself momentarily taken aback. Blinking, he turned to see the shopkeeper turning the perfume bottle over in his hands as he spoke.
The only one of its kind in the world.
Clicking his tongue with a low grunt, Quido stroked his chin. The image of snow-white feet smeared with red blood surfaced in his mind at once.
She was an arresting beauty, certainly, but what had truly caught Quido's interest was her eyes.
Lucien's eyes had held him captive from the moment he saw her in the banquet hall. Those raised outside nobility rarely blended into such gatherings. They either groveled, bustling about to wait on others, or found themselves ostracized entirely.
Yet Lucien was different. She had shown not the slightest trace of intimidation or nerves. Shrugging off the spiteful teasing of the young ladies with an easy smile, her gaze had remained fixed elsewhere. Like a predator tracking its prey.
And the target of that gaze had been Administrator Penu.
Displaying a girl's delicate modesty while reciting poetry with utter confidence, she had seemed born for that very stage. When she captured Penu's attention, won his heart, and received an invitation to his recitation salon, Lucien's ash-gray eyes had shone with an incomparable brilliance.
That salon was notorious for attracting only the most conservative and obstinate of nobles, entirely out of reach for the younger set, but that also meant it was a gathering reserved exclusively for elders who commanded formidable influence at court. If anyone had asked Quido the fastest way to get close to those holding real power, he would have pointed them straight to that salon.
Yet a young lady who had spent her entire life as a housemaid, only to step into nobility just days prior, had walked away with a proud invitation. A place where escaping without complete humiliation would have been a triumph in itself.
And then there were those feet.
Having shadowed her out of sheer curiosity, masking his presence, Quido could not help his astonishment. With bloodied feet, the girl had performed her role to perfection, her face alive with clever pride. The way her eyes had held him at a distance, veiled in guarded caution while maintaining impeccable elegance, had left quite an impression.
Something was brewing within House Beekman. Whether Lucien stood at the heart of it was still unclear, but she certainly warranted keeping an eye on.
Seeing through the shopkeeper's nonchalant tone to the greed for a reward beneath, Quido scoffed inwardly. He offered a naive shake of his head.
Turning his back on the shopkeeper's palpable disappointment, Quido stepped outside. Pulling his collar tight against the brisk wind, his thoughts remained entirely consumed by those ash-gray eyes shining with cunning intelligence. Meanwhile, Kirhin casually set down the document he had been scanning with nervous darting eyes. His head felt on the verge of exploding. He had spent the last several days cross-referencing ledger entries and verifying inventory with the Fremont Merchant Coalition, and in the process, Kirhin had come to a realization.
He truly possessed no talent whatsoever for calculation or cerebral work.
During his days at the academy, he had neglected his studies across the board and never quite pinpointed his particular weaknesses, but this assignment had settled the matter. He had a terrible head for figures and lacked any eye for detail.
Lars, having tasked him a few times with tallying the cargo lists, prices, and sums, had nearly hurled the valuable silver censer in his hand when Kirhin handed over four incorrect totals in a row. Thrown straight at him, naturally.
Had it not been for Kirhin's decent eye for fine goods, his forehead would have sported the censer's dented imprint long ago.
Inspecting the goods in person yesterday and sorting through them had actually been rather fun.
Kirhin let out a heavy sigh and propped his chin on his hand.
Of all the shipments from the merchant coalition, the gems and furs were paramount. Many were of a caliber impossible to procure easily in Edmus, and above all, they carried an exotic allure.
Perhaps owing to trade across numerous foreign lands, the gem-crafting techniques varied wildly. While tastes might differ, there was an abundance of pieces that could fetch an exorbitant price if matched with the right connoisseur.
If only he could delegate this to someone else, but because the dealings with the Fremont Merchant Coalition were strictly secret, he was forced to sit here day in and day out until his whole body ached with restless fidgeting. Wondering if he might suggest taking an afternoon snack, Kirhin glanced at Lars, only for his brow to furrow.
Work hadn't progressed in the slightest for some time now. Lars had been holding the spice inventory list for hours on end, his brow furrowed with deep discontent. Feeling a pang of apprehension, Kirhin cleared his throat with a discreet cough and rose to his feet.
The answer came clipped and swift. Catching a faint hint of irritation in his profile as he turned the page dismissively, Kirhin ventured tentatively,
Snapping the ledger shut, Lars shot him a glare sharp as a blade. The look in his eyes seemed to say they would be here all night if he started listing Kirhin's faults, forcing Kirhin to look away in silence.
The work was exhausting enough on its own, but having a companion this high-strung made him want to weep. Seeking solace in thoughts of the ample bosoms and sweet breath of his past lovers, he cracked open a crate containing newly arrived goods. Fortunately, it held plenty of exquisite treasures capable of lifting his spirits.
Letting out a faint grunt of indifference, Lars propped both feet up on the table. Watching him cross his arms, tilt his head back, and shut his eyes to rest, Kirhin rummaged through the wares until an exclamation burst from his lips.
It was an utterly gorgeous dagger. Both the scabbard and the hilt were carved from ivory, pristine without a single blemish in their pale hue.
Even more astonishing was the craftsmanship. It hardly seemed the work of human hands. Engraved upon the scabbard was the God of Wisdom, depicted in the guise of an elephant, while on the hilt, two white tigers tasked with guarding the deity leaned their heads together. Every single line was so delicate and distinct that its majestic presence could be felt entirely intact.
To add to it, emeralds and diamonds embedded around the edges were encased in gold. Even the harmony of colors proved immaculate.
Judging by its size, it appeared intended for a lady, yet with the tigers baring their fangs on the hilt, its aura was formidable. It exuded an overwhelming lavishness, balanced by an austere dignity. In all likelihood, this dagger was the most precious piece in the entire consignment.
Muttering absentmindedly, Kirhin was struck by a thought he had forgotten, and he darted a glance toward Lars.
Hadn't Lars been wearing the very Devainko perfume bottle Kirhin had paid for and given to Lucien?
He quickly checked the man's waist, but it was bare. There was no telling whether he had already returned it to Lucien or simply wasn't carrying it.
The refusal came without a moment's hesitation. His nose twitching, Kirhin narrowed his eyes in an irritated glare at Lars, adopting a deliberately grave tone.
While it was impossible to discern what Lars was thinking from his face alone, one thing was certain: he cared about Lucien. For his brow had furrowed the moment the perfume bottle was mentioned.
With a long sigh, Lars swung his legs down from the table and turned toward him. Leaning his elbows on his knees, Lars cast an upward glare so chilling that Kirhin unconsciously licked his lips.
His instincts flared. Lucien had done something wrong, and Lars was furious about it.
“Her feet can't have healed yet.”
