Into The Crucible

CHAPTER X: The First Step

JULIUS

"WHAT would you want to know?"

"Everything."

And I had told him so.

Priscilla's man arrived past daybreak. The conversation ran short, keeping only to the important details. To make sure nothing would be left out, the detective recorded my words. It was not long before he left, and we both formed the same conclusion. The person behind each attempts on my family had a single goal: to get to me.

An uneasy thought, but it had merit. I had enemies. I had allies. But I what I didn't have was clarity, and the harsh reality only made that fact clearer. Staying true to the course one has chosen required a strong will, strong enough to stand defiant against any deterrent.

But will I stand to defy the implications of a life taken?

I sat in the quiet. Yesterday, a police unit had come at my call. The bloodied letter was theirs now, subjected to investigation. Search parties were already out and about, spreading the word and covering ground. I could not see it any other way, but I maintained a measure of optimism in a time where everything warranted being pessimistic. I needed to believe Felix was still out there. Hope was good, even a small amount. But an ambivalent answer wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Any reluctance I might have had was diminished, instigated by a shift in priority. Aptitude wasn't everything, and sometimes just sheer numbers could tip the scales even further than what it might have been. Priscilla's retainer—the detective—alone wouldn't outweigh the effort of many men.

But that did not outweigh the guilt. It was dense and crushing, like being trapped beneath a boulder. Sleep served to torture, and I'd tried to avoid it. I failed. The guilt of recognizing what had happened, and the fear of not recognizing what could have happened—both dragged me two steps back for every step taken forward.

My ire resurfaced as my gaze fell on the distant many towers. Every step I took to uncover a secret.

***

Its impenetrable, Nathan thought.

The day had passed. It was early morning. The bulk of De Stellae Manor seemed to be the body of a giant sleeping on the hill.

A squad of guards stood watch before the main gate. He could see the holsters hidden underneath their coats. None of them seemed particularly joyful at the ordeal, but they all handled it with a characteristic impassiveness expected in their job.

Nathan drove the car closer up the hill. The grille bore the Feuardent crest—a lantern—and the shift in the guards' expressions signaled their recognition of it.

One of them, a burly fellow in a ash gray suit one size too small, approached Nathan's car. Nathan straightened and slid the valise into view.

"I'm here to see Mr. Julius De Stellae," he said.

"ID?" asked the guard.

Nathan produced his license from his wallet. After the guard examined it, he waved to his cohorts and nodded. Nathan took the license back as the gates swung open. The car rolled forward, cruising smoothly up the winding path to the manor. Just to his immediate left he could see a modest station where the guards seem to be quartered.

Nathan was astounded at the sheer size of the estate. It looked like a painting. This was his first time inside De Stellae Manor, and he was unsure if he would forget it. Feuardent Manor is one thing, he thought, but this is something else.