The Darkness Weaver

At long last, the carriage drew to a stop in front of Charles's townhouse, and Joseph offered to see him right to his doorstep. Just as Charles opened the carriage door, Mrs. Wilson—his neighbor—stepped out of her home. She was wearing a pale green dress trimmed in white lace, topped by an apron embroidered with brightly colored flowers. Her silvery-white hair was pinned into a neat bun. An amiable smile spread across her face when she spotted Charles and Joseph together.

"Ah! Master Joseph." Mrs. Wilson spoke up cheerfully as she approached. "Did you come all the way here just to drop Charles off?"

Joseph returned her greeting with equal warmth. "Good evening, Mrs. Wilson. I had a bit of business with Charles, so I figured I'd see him home. I hope you've been well?"

She nodded, giving Charles a look of fondness. "Charles is very lucky to have such a good friend in you, Master Joseph. Not every landlord would be this kind or attentive toward a tenant. I've always been impressed by your thoughtfulness."

Charles's cheeks colored faintly. He nodded in agreement. "That's true. I do feel fortunate to have a friend like him—someone I can always rely on."

In the flickering glow of a nearby streetlamp, Mrs. Wilson's smile grew wider. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope, which she handed to Joseph.

"Here's this month's rent," she said amiably. "I thought I'd bring it straight to you so you wouldn't need to send someone over and waste their time."

"That's very considerate, but you shouldn't have troubled yourself," Joseph said, raising a hand to politely decline—yet he ultimately accepted the envelope. "Truly, I don't mind collecting it, but I appreciate the gesture."

Mrs. Wilson waved aside his thanks. Then she turned back toward Charles with a knowing smile. "Anyway, I'll leave you two gents to your talk. I imagine there's something pressing you want to discuss. I'll head back inside. See you both again soon."

She gave them one final wave, then slipped away. Joseph and Charles watched her retreat, grateful for her persistent kindness.

"You're lucky to have such a thoughtful neighbor," Joseph remarked once Mrs. Wilson was gone.

Charles nodded. "I couldn't agree more." But the contentment in his eyes soon darkened with fresh worry.

Joseph noticed. "Something on your mind?"

Charles exhaled. "Just figuring out my next move… The dream and the possibility I might be from Sarnia—those are the only leads I've got right now. But the dream's vague, and traveling to Sarnia would cost a fortune."

Joseph inclined his head. "I can loan you what you need if it comes down to that."

Charles shook his head firmly. "You've already done more than enough—renting me this house cheaply, looking after me when I lost my memory. I can't accept more."

"But—"

"No," Charles interrupted, his voice resolute. "I can't. I'm determined to handle it myself."

Seeing how steadfast Charles was, Joseph let the subject drop. Instead, he placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "If that's what you want, I respect it. Just don't give up hope—there might be other clues you're missing. Keep at it."

Charles smiled gratefully. "Thanks. You've no idea how much that means to me."

They parted ways with a warm farewell. Joseph climbed back into the carriage, waving one last time through its window before it pulled away into the night. Charles lingered outside for a moment, watching the lantern glow recede into darkness, then trudged into his home, mind whirling with unanswered questions.

His body, however, was too drained to let him brood for long. The moment he laid back on his bed, his exhaustion overwhelmed him. Conscious thought floated away in moments, yielding to sleep.

—

Elsewhere in the capital, Joseph likewise had a thousand thoughts on his mind as his carriage carried him toward his family's estate. He closed his eyes, sifting through all that Charles had told him. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, tension evident in his features.

"Driver," Joseph said, his voice calm but urgent. "I need you to take me to the office before we head home. There's something I must do first."

"Certainly, sir." The driver nodded and changed routes, guiding the carriage to a different sector of the city.

They stopped in front of a tall, two-story building constructed of polished marble. A sign over the door bore carved letters announcing the office's name, and at its center was an emblem: a crossed sword and shield against a dark backdrop, symbolizing the kingdom's defense against hidden threats.

Joseph hopped down from the carriage, taking a moment to glance at the austere façade. Then he strode inside. The heavy wooden door creaked, echoing through a silent corridor lit by scattered oil lanterns. The hush was broken only by Joseph's own footsteps tapping against the floor.

Everyone else had presumably gone home for the night. With purposeful steps, Joseph walked through dim halls, eventually reaching the second floor. There he stopped before a particular door, raising his lantern in one hand while knocking three times with the other.

"Who is it?" came a low, guarded voice from within. It sounded neither hostile nor welcoming—just stern.

"It's me—Joseph," he answered in a clear tone that conveyed respect but also familiarity.

"Come in," the voice allowed.

Joseph pushed the door open. Inside, the room was illuminated by a cluster of lanterns. A large desk dominated the space, piled high with scattered documents and files. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with towering tomes. In the middle stood a plush red leather couch, flanked by matching cushions meticulously arranged.

Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man with dark blond hair streaked by gray. Age lines etched his face, but his deep blue eyes reflected intelligence and resolve. His tall, broad-shouldered figure still exuded a certain vigor despite the inevitable marks of time, and a faint scar across one cheek hinted at trials once endured.

"You have urgent business?" he said, inclining his head. This man was Edward Cavendish, the head of the unit Joseph was currently assigned to.

Joseph walked closer, taking the seat Edward indicated. "Yes, sir. Or rather, Uncle," Joseph replied, letting a hint of affection color his voice. "I have news concerning that matter you asked me to investigate."

Edward laced his fingers, leaning in with sharp focus. "Go on. Give me every detail."

Nodding, Joseph recounted what he had gleaned from Charles regarding a particular case involving revenge by a household servant. As Joseph elaborated, Edward's expression remained neutral, careful not to betray any inner reaction. Joseph, however, said nothing about the strange fungus poisoning or the ominous dream at sea. Those details, in his view, seemed irrelevant to Edward's specific inquiry.

Once Joseph finished, a hush settled over the office. Finally, Edward broke the silence in a measured voice. "This is quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say…"

Joseph nodded. "Exactly what I thought. And it's even more curious, seeing as it was Charles's involvement that drew the city guard to that area in the first place."

Again, Edward only responded with a pensive nod. He gazed into space, collecting his thoughts, then looked back at Joseph.

"All this is suspicious enough that we can't just dismiss it. We need to examine it thoroughly."

Joseph agreed. "I'll coordinate a briefing first thing tomorrow. I'll gather the rest of our relevant data and call the others in."

They spent a good while planning the next steps—what lines of inquiry to pursue and how best to connect certain dots. Even so, there were still gaps in the story, but both men sensed they were closing in on something unusual.

Eventually, Edward inhaled and let out a weary sigh. "We can pick this up in the morning. It's late, and we could both use some rest. Don't be late to the meeting."

"Understood," Joseph said, standing to go. He noticed a faint, reassuring smile crease his uncle's face—fleeting but genuine. Somehow that gesture eased his nerves a bit.

With a brief bow, Joseph departed. His footsteps echoed through the deserted corridor just as they had upon his arrival. Outside, the night air was cool against his lungs, and the faint breeze soothed his tense frame. The carriage still waited, so Joseph climbed inside and directed the driver toward the Cavendish estate in the royal district.

Peering out the window, Joseph watched the capital's streets pass by in dark silhouettes and sparse lantern lights. Most citizens had long retired indoors; compared to the bustle of daytime, the city felt deserted and hushed.