KENLEY BONES POV

In the completely darkened room home to building eight in Tooth and Nails street, light flickered from the oil lamp placed at the center of the table Kenley sat before, allowing him to make view of the warm, brownish hue that was customary to the palm sized carte-de-visite he was holding, as well as the family triptych which had been printed onto it.

It was of a man, woman, and a child, the former two standing behind a plush wooden chair, where the child was seated, both with one hand each placed on the intricate ball ears of its top rail.

Kenley stared, with a pensive expression, at the photograph he held between both forefingers and thumbs of his hands, the sight of the images it bore causing his whole being to be engulfed by a weighted-down feeling.

He firstly brushed the thumb of his left hand over the image of the short pepper-haired man in the photograph, one whose facial features were made up of a parted-pencil mustache and wide brown eyes.

It was his father, Elliot Bones.

The man was garbed in a classic single breasted suit completed by a bow tie, and held firmly by his right hand to his rib cage was a half top hat—all black.

His countenance was of soft wrinkles, seemingly missable at a farther glance, and they gave off the feeling that he must have been stressed so much right before the picture had been taken.

Kenley brushed his eyes over his younger self of whom had been dressed in just a smaller version of his father’s wear—not taking into account the short pants he had worn in the place of trousers, and the visible socks on his legs—as he went ahead to admire his mother next. A woman who had gone by the name Martha.

She was tall and beautiful—perfect, if Kenley was to say—and despite the monochrome state of the picture, her elegance was still utterly evident, even so to a bewitching degree.

Garbed in embellishment accessories, long white satin gloves, and as well a simple tea dress that did little to hide her slender shape, Martha was standing to the left of little Kenley, her face brightened by an alluring smile which made her narrow-set eyes of gray and her bun-packed silver hair quite evident.

Simply looking at the photo and studying Kenley’s parents, the origin of his features was quite evident. All of them had come from only one person between the two. His father.

Kenley rubbed his thumb over his mother’s face in such a manner that almost made it seem as though he’d intended to wipe off the entrancing smile she had.

Maybe he was?

He himself was not sure if he had taken that action because he had felt the urge to embrace her one more time, or if it was because he’d wanted to clean the fake countenance which she had worn just for that picture.

Maybe it was that.

Maybe he actually did want to rip off that happy mask of hers and once again glimpse the fear that she’d had for her life after having being diagnosed with a chronic case of cholera. A diagnosis which had sent their family crashing into the gutters.

His brain reminded him of it all. Of what had happened in the year 1499 when the first outbreak of cholera had come upon Fitzroy, and how the so-called doctors could find no cure for the mysterious sickness, causing anyone who had become infected to face inevitable death.

Kenley had been twelve at that point in time, and his mother stubborn.

Despite how many times she had been advised by both her husband, Elliott, and her personal maids not to venture into the slums because of the severity of the outbreak there, she had never heeded them.

She had always said that if they cared not for their sick tenants during such a pandemic then what sort of landowners would they be? And as expected, though not hoped for, it had been that kindness that had gotten the better of her.

After a month of visiting the sick residents of Ur’s Backwaters with gifts and the sort, Martha finally became a victim of the perilous cholera, and, in return, landed on her deathbed.

Kenley, while still gazing at the picture in his hands, recalled how his father had proceeded to lose his senses because of that.

The man had tried all his possible best and had used all the wealth their family had possessed at the time to search for a cure in any way, even though he was constantly being told of its impossibility.

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But rather than stop when the normal medical means had borne no fruit, he had gone ahead to venture into the supernatural.

Still, he had been unable to find a cure. Because despite the wonders that were associated with the supernatural, it still had its limitations when it came to its usage on mankind. Or rather, mankind did not possess enough knowledge on what it entailed, and Emperor Cedric Fitzroy, the Emperor at the time, had also forbidden further research on it in order to prevent something otherworldly from happening—something that could easily destroy their world as it was.

This law had been passed due to the fact that Emperor Cedric had had a strong belief that tampering with the unknown would bring about consequences which could destroy the world. Therefore, the supernatural had been dwindled down to only what had been found and documented, and not what could be found.

Kenley recalled this to have been his father’s final push, which had caused the man to take it upon himself to research and experiment on the supernatural for cures in secret. And due to this, slowly but surely, they had lost everything.

Elliot had stopped attending political gatherings because he had been fixated on finding a cure, and before he knew it, he had lost all his connections.

Furthermore, he had squandered the Bones family savings on the research and purchase of supernatural ingredients, as well as books and animal organs, and when they had no money any longer, he had begun to sell their lands, until nothing was left.

No money, no connections, and no lands.

This had resulted in their family, the Bones family, who had inherited the title of Baronet because of their forefather’s achievements during the Great War of the post-ascenders era, to finally relinquish it due to their inability to maintain the required standard for nobles of such a rank.

Not long after they had dropped to peasantry did Martha’s condition get even worse, and a week later she had died.

This had completely ruined Elliott, and twelve year old Kenley, at the time, had had to watch both his mother lose her life and his father become a patient at Ur’s asylum at the same time.

Kenley had been too young to not be broken or devastated, but he had known that if he let himself fall into such a state then he would just end up like his parents.

So he had decided to fight for his life.

Using his own personal savings, he had rented an apartment in the Backwaters, and had worked meager jobs such as cleaning gardens, portering, emptying wastes, newspaper deliveries, and the like.

It was not until after a year when he’d turned thirteen had he finally been able to save enough to cover his tuition fees at the Church’s public school. Having known well that he was no longer a noble and he could not afford the private one, he had settled on that.

At least it was good enough, and from there he would be able to get into the Church’s college through a scholarship if he studied hard enough.

And that was what he had done.

To get into the Church’s public school he had ridden on his past rank as the son of a noble and the fact that he had already been taught by a governess during the early years of his life.

He had been a thirteen year old boy trying to enter the same school as children who had been younger than him, so it had proven difficult because he had already been past the age for enrollment.

But due to his father having been a Baronet once, he had been allowed to enroll regardless—obviously due to the detriment of a peasant somewhere—because only two hundred students were usually admitted in a year, so he had surely taken the spot of someone.

This, though, had been the route he had taken to becoming an Alchemist and a doctor in order to make sure that no one suffered the same way he had done.

But life was not having him living that way.

It was not long after his graduation, when he had still been scouting for a job, that he had gotten a letter from a person using the alias ‘J.H.’

This person had promised to lease him an apartment that he would be a landlord of, and all the money coming from it would be his, only in return all he had to do was make essence elixirs whenever one was requested.

Seeing no flaw in such an agreement after countless thoughts, Kenley had returned a letter to J.H, accepting the offer.

It would have taken at least a year or more before he would have found a stable footing in the world as a doctor and Alchemist.

People always loved to go to those who had been referred to them, and he was a no-name with no groundbreaking history in the world of science; not a single person would employ him. Unless those who had little to no money to offer, and he had not been hoping to be a poor doctor tending to the poor.

In that regard, it would have been stupid of him to reject such a superb offer.

So he had come up with the idea to take up J.H’s offer, become a landlord while just simply making elixir potions for his employer, and save up as much funds as possible so he could one day buy the property from J.H and terminate the contract.

That way he would already be stable, and as well be making a good income from the apartment he would buy.

Furthermore, with enough wealth, he could purchase the front page of a newspaper, or even a magazine—even though that was quite expensive—and have his name published as a well renowned doctor and Alchemist, bringing him customers.

Yes. To him, that was a very good idea.

And thus the alliance between J.H and Kenley had begun.

That was until Kenley’s body had been suddenly triggered into uneasiness by the thoughts of what his elixirs were being used for.