The Chronicles of Van Deloney-Chapter 26: FAVOR OF THE TIDES

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MEANWHILE, Charlotte has reclined on the couch in the House of Grimoards while going methodically over papers from the illustrious Marsheries. Those parchments contained a plethora of cases and correspondences spanning nearly three decades and were invaluable in proving their usefulness as sources of investigation for Viktor's origin and its relationship with the countess, providing leads and description for tracking down the entity and unraveling its enigmatic past.

"What batch of documents are these, Vladimir?" Charlotte asked in a cool and refined tone to the butler. Vladimir replied neutrally while explaining regarding the documents which have been presented before Charlotte. "These files are of the years spanning between 1847 and 1855, my lady. Furthermore, I have added a consent letter signed by the head of the Marsheries, Commander Sylvester McQuoid of the Investigative Division Unit IX." He elaborated, underlining that the documents had been acquired bearing in mind the due care and caution, while permissions were taken beforehand from the relevant authorities.

"Do you also have some papers from the Church Registries? They might have some records for their ancestry. They could probably have one." Charlotte added as it occurred to her. "Now you mention that I did check the church registries, but they claimed that the records have turned into ashes." Vladimir answered.

"Well of course; they don't even have anything in the royal library." She said with a sigh. Then there was another knock, and loud in the breadths of the corridors. It made Vladimir open the door and greet Saevionh at his return. Lowering his upper torso as a gesture of respect, he uttered, "Your Lordship, you have come." The words and tone were modulated with deference toward him, reflecting the admiration and loyalty of the man toward Saevionh.

"Looks like you found nothing there," stated Saevionh, entering the drawing room and pausing just inside the doorway. In precise order, he removed his coat and then his top hat and held them for a moment before handing them to Vladimir. But even then, he hesitated a bit—correcting the direction of the brim of the hat and smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the sleeve of that coat before leaving them in the butler's care.

There was no comment from Vladimir, although the delay had most certainly registered with him. Saevionh took his place in the seat across from Charlotte, glancing at his gloved hands, brushing them together twice, and sitting down. He also adjusted a nearby cushion, nudging it till it sat perfectly against the seam of the couch.

"I must say that their existence has been turned to dust," Charlotte sighed, leaning back with the final set of papers thrown carelessly upon the table. The note contained a quiet sense of defeat, with her fingers lightly tapping the edge of the documents before she pushed them into a straight line.

"Don't worry," Saevionh replied smoothly, crossing one leg over the other with what seemed like almost mathematical grace. "I've sent a messenger owl to my dearest sea friends. They would be in the best know if anything has been heard."

"Oh, are you going overseas again, Lord Saevionh?" Vladimir raised a questioning brow as he carefully laid the coat and hat on a nearby rack. Some concern lingered on the surface of his voice with regard to his condition. "Is that wise?"

"Why, indeed," said Saevionh casually, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. For a second, he put a hand to his blindfold, first adjusting the knot to the left, then to the right, then left again, just to be sure. "But this time you go with us, for I have no wish to repeat the last fiasco with a physician and a broken vial of valerian root."

Vladimir muttered something under his breath but bowed in acquiescence.

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Charlotte shot him a sideways glance. "You do realize how difficult it is to travel unnoticed, right? Especially if you're going to insist on bringing tea leaves, documents wrapped in silk, and half the manor's decor."

Saevionh leveled a smirk at her. "It's the one thing I have control of while the rest are rolling downhill."

He tapped his translucent fingers thusly—once, and twice—and went somewhere else.

"Well, has the countess even given permission for this overseas trip?" Worry creased Charlotte's brow. It had been one thing to give the countess trouble after all they had already put her through; this was quite another.

"Precisely going there to investigate, Lady Charlotte," Saevionh said gently, absently brushing the invisible dust from a stack of parchment in front of him and flicking one corner into alignment. "Her ladyship has known all along. I sent her the letters of consent weeks ago—signed and sealed. Twice, just to be sure."

He was following the trail down to the table, going through the cluttered documents with a gloved hand, until something snapped his attention, something not related to their case.

"All the same... Well, let the records show that the one holding his head high in ritualistic hypocrisy, called the Duke of Erythria-Theocropolis, is an interesting article." With distaste, he curled his voice around the pronouncement as he presented the brittle page.

Charlotte tilted her head, intrigued. "What is it about him?"

"That one?" Saevionh scoffed and crossed his arms, releasing an exhale so crisp it could shatter rock. "He has committed such things over the years—embezzlement, illegal trade, and even treason at one point. And even so, the archive still has him under the noble registry. An embarrassment, for it is common knowledge he has long since been stripped of that title."

"That's quite unfortunate," Charlotte muttered and raised an eyebrow. "A worthy title in name only."

Before Saevionh could respond, a sharp tap-tap-tap resounded from the window. Without a moment's doubt, he rose, tilted a passing chair—exactly one inch to the left—and opened the window with practiced grace.

The white-streaked silver feathers of an owl flashed across the light, indeed a Boreal Twilight owl, rare for its fierce loyalty and unnerving wit—and it did so with dignity, landing on the windowsill, its talons clicking against the wooden frame with a soft sound. An exquisite little relic was in its clutch, a smooth piece of obsidian etched with the unmistakable insignia of a pirate ship coiled about a serpent.

"Well," Saevionh said with a wolfish smile while carefully taking the token from the owl and turning it over in his gloved fingers. "I see my dear companions across the waves have given their approval to our undertaking."

The owl hooted softly, giving a nudge of its beak on the chest of Saevionh, who responded with a quiet chuckle as he dug into an inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a folded packet of wax paper. Inside were counted squares of dried crackers—each no larger than his thumbnail, arranged in a descending order of size.

"Here you are," he whispered, extending one to the owl, "for a job well done."

The bird blinked and accepted the gift, hopping to perch atop the nearest chair—a perch that Saevionh tilted slightly, as if such asymmetry had insulted him.

"Looks like we're off, Lady Charlotte," he resumed, sliding the relic into a hidden compartment in the desk drawer.

"And this time, the tide is in our favor."