The Wellsworth Estate was basically unique in that there was no guest room. As a result, I claimed one of the more cushioned armchairs. Mary was happy enough with whatever conclusion she came to and I was relieved that things had worked themselves out, whatever the reason. It wasn't a feeling of restlessness or discomfort per se. It was more a sense of displacement that kept me on edge. It was as if there was something pulling on me, telling me that I was in the wrong place.

I cycled through the events that happened around this time in the game, but nothing stuck out to me. Running into Elizabeth and Lorn was new, but it also meant that she wasn't with Georn or Prince Phillip. After the exhibitions, the game skipped to the next day, so Elizabeth probably went back to her dorms and studied or something similarly banal. If I hadn't interfered so much, Duke Wellsworth would be expanding the scope of the investigations into Mary's death and it would be beginning to bleed into House Masler's operations. Some of the war hawks among the nobles should have also been taking the chance to solidify their coalition since Duke Wellsworth's attention was elsewhere, but no such chance existed at the moment.

Everything pointed to my worries being unfounded, but as such things were like to do, my worries still weighed on me. Just as the cushions of my chair slowly formed around me and let me sink deeper into the chair, the worry carved out its own area in my mind and settled in. I slept fitfully.

***

With the light of dawn came the activity of a house waking up. I found my way through the still unfamiliar place to the kitchen where I found a cook doing his utmost to avoid making a sound while he cooked. He noticed me even as he juggled between his watching frying pans and chopping ingredients.

"Lord Masler, is there something that I can make for you?" he asked.

"Just whatever you're already making looks good," I said then pulled up a stool so I could watch the man work his magic.

"I'm sorry if this is imprudent of me, but I heard of the way you met our young lady, and I wanted to thank you for everything you've done." The cook didn't even pause in his work as he added a slight bow. It felt good to hear that from someone I had barely even met. Ever since coming to this world, I was met with hostility, fear, or at best respect. This man though, was simply grateful for something that I had done without the feigned reverence that I got from some of my classmates of lesser status.

The food itself was excellent, and it was nice to just sit in the kitchen with my plate instead of the grand dining hall that I had taken most of breakfasts in. The warmth of the cooking flames made the air warmer than was comfortable, and the stool was austere at best, but I preferred this kitchen to the grating emptiness of the dining hall.

I was very nearly finished with my food when an unkempt looking Duke Wellsworth came in. He grunted at the cook and grabbed at the air where I had taken my stool from.

"Lord Wellsworth, I must compliment your cook––" I started, but the Duke crashed onto the floor. As if he hadn't noticed that there was no stool to sit on, he had tried to sit down on the air and was left looking confused when he found that it hadn't held his weight. The cook doubled over with laughter and understanding only slowly crept across the Duke's face.

A maid carrying a feather duster came rushing into the kitchen. She scanned the scene. I was sitting on my stool with an almost empty plate, the cook was still laughing, and Duke Wellsworth was looking like he might soon join the cook in laughter. With four people in the small kitchen, it was starting to get fairly cramped.

"Sorry, I took your stool. I'm just about done, so you can have it back," I said. I put the last bite in my mouth and stood up to offer up my seat.

***

~Risch~

"So what sort of inquisitor reveals information to a criminal?" he berated Ihre. Even after a night to think over her actions she still looked sheepish. It wasn't that he thought that she really needed more to remind her of her mistake. Rather, he was worried that if he didn't punish her somehow now, she would use whatever perverted sense of justice that made her enter the inquisition to punish herself. If that happened, it would be harsher than necessary and it could even be dangerous. He didn't want her distracted while they were out in the field.

"The stupid sort, sir," Ihre said. She stood at attention with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped behind her. She had obviously spent an inordinate amount of time making sure that her uniform was immaculate, so she looked like the perfect model of what the inquisition wished its members were. Instead, they got fat old bastards like him.

"Precisely. Even in times of duress, an inquisitor must remain calm and professional. That means that even when your life is in danger, you are not to act without thinking. We are tools of the kingdom, not its subjects. Our lives are not worth saving," he said. It was the standard nonsense that was supposed to inspire blind loyalty. In his own opinion, it more likely contributed to the rampant corruption since it just out and told inquisitors to look out for themselves, but it still worked on Ihre.

Risch waited for a moment, as if he were thinking up a suitable punishment for her terrible mistake, then nodded to himself and said, "A week's worth of your pay will be docked. Do not let this happen again."

"It won't happen again, sir!" shouted Ihre, as if she was still in training. She looked satisfied in the way that her type tended to get when they got what they perceived to be justice. It was as if she wanted to be punished if only because it meant that the world worked in the way that she wanted it to.

"Since it looks like the old sites are dead ends, we're going to have to find some of those sources from the previous investigation. You said that you could track them down again," he ordered.

"I'll do my best. What will you be doing?" Ihre asked.

"I'm expecting some guests today, so I'll have to entertain them. They're of the noble sort," he answered evasively. It was true in all but the spirit of the thing at least.

***

Risch sat at his desk and watched his guest as the trainee removed his guest's hood. The face that was revealed looked drawn and sunken from its time in the dungeons. If there was one place where commoners and nobles were truly equal it was there. Perhaps here too, now that he thought about it. The manacles that secured his guest's ankles to the chair at the center of his office still looked damp with condensation. They certainly didn't give prisoners enough water for it to have been sweat.

"Herbert Masler, it's a pleasure to see you again," he said.

He thought he saw the trainee try to retreat further into his corner of the room, but that wasn't important. Masler clinked some when he looked up to look at Risch. Masler didn't recognize him it seemed. He supposed that was fair since the one time they had met he had been one of many junior inquisitors at a party, making the rounds and meeting all the high nobles. It would've been quite the ask for Masler to remember one of probably hundreds over the years. Sadly for Masler, it was one thing to understand logically, but it was quite another to resist the temptation to make sure that he remedied this lack of recognition.

"I have a couple questions to ask you and I'd be very thankful if you answered them," he said.

"What more do you need? You're going to kill me anyway," said Masler.

"You make it sound like you don't want to answer my questions. That would be rather unfortunate for one of us, so I'll give you a chance to reconsider." Risch winked at the trainee who was doing his best to become one with the shadows of Risch's unfortunately dim office. The severe lack of sunlight available to make it underground to him made him rely entirely on fire. That just meant that there were no shortage of shadows to choose from at least.

Masler just stayed silent, but Risch wanted to give him a fair chance to think. It was difficult to get a sense for time without the sun, but Risch waited for his best guess at a half bell before giving up.

"I suppose I will need to offer some incentives then?" Risch asked rhetorically while he fished through his drawers. There were all sorts of things in there, but he finally found his favorite and pulled it out. It shone in the dancing light as prettily as any bride and as bright as a full moon. Risch made his way over to the bolted down chair where his guest sat.

He started with Masler's left hand. It wasn't manicured like Risch was sure it had been before his time in the dungeons, but it was still soft from a life of leisure. Risch flipped it over, easily overcoming Masler's malnourished strength, and used one hand to hold it still against the arm rest of the chair. He drew lines of red at the joints of the fingers, but was careful to be gentle. Risch almost laughed when he saw that Masler looked faintly proud that he hadn't given up a response. He held himself back though, it wouldn't do if he slipped this early after all.

"Let's start with some places. Where is your largest operation located?" Risch asked. When he didn't get a response, he waved over the trainee. If the kid was going to be here, it would be better that he got some experience. "Hold him."

The first to go was the first segment of the pinky finger. Risch took his time sawing through the joint. The angle of the chair's armrest helped somewhat, but the most important thing was to cut between the bones. An off the mark cut just meant more struggle and more struggle meant even more time in the long run. Masler's screams were loud, but the trainee did a good job of keeping him still. After the segment was off, Risch grabbed one of the lights and lit an extra candle. The smell of cooking meat mixed with the screams while Risch cauterized the wound.

"Where is your largest operation located?"

Risch gave it a couple seconds, but the screaming didn't stop. The next one then. He started sawing away at the second segment of the pinky finger. Slow and steady, making sure that it only took one try. There was an art to this sort of thing and he was not some sloppy amateur. At least it was simpler when the prisoner didn't need to be seen in public again. Causing pain without leaving signs was surprisingly difficult even for professionals.

The candle was warm and dry against the damp chill that normally pervaded his office. Now though, he felt warm and secure. It was too bad that he had forgotten to bring something to eat. These things tended to take a while and it wasn't as if he could leave for a lunch break and then come back. That wouldn't have been professional at all.

"Where is your largest operation located?"

***

~Darren~

Having said my goodbyes I made my way back to my carriage. The driver looked like he had just woken up, but at least he hadn't left without my permission. I didn't truly need the relationships that the Wellsworths had with their staff, but at the very least I did expect competence.

I considered going to the academy, but the feeling that I needed to go back to the estate still pulled at me. It wasn't as if attendance was particularly important.

"To the estate," I ordered.

We arrived at the front gate, but there wasn't a guard posted. At least the estate was out of the way so the likelihood that anyone unsavory had tried to enter was lowered, but I would still need to deal with whoever should have been on duty. It was bad enough that I paid for their lodging and food on top of their salaries, but if they weren't going to actually do their jobs then I'm sure I could have others found to fill their posts.