““Well, the busy bees are back! Mister Bascombe, Mister Ördelon, I'm glad to see you're both safe!

“Quite so, My Lord, it's been something of a morning.” I said wearily.

“I should say so. Can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?”

“No offense intended Count, but I get in just as much trouble with you.” I retorted.

“You have me there, Sir. What are you two doing today?” He asked of no one in particular. He seemed preoccupied.

I told him of what we had discussed with the Queen and King Mestil as well as about my concerns regarding the Hard Coast Company. That caught his attention.

“I see. And how strong are these intuitions, Mister Bascombe?”

“Strong enough for me to investigate my own father, My Lord. Something just doesn't feel right.”

He was thoughtful for a moment, “You need to find someone here or bring someone here who is closer to your father. Ördelon can transport someone if you can narrow it down. Surely you have that ability, Ördelon?”

“Yes, Sir, of course, My Lord. But that may not be necessary. There's someone right under our noses who might be very helpful …”

It dawned on me immediately, “Margrin Ephisieryón! Of course! By the gods, he may be here working for my father as we speak.”

Count Pelisir considered this, “But this is a delicate matter, Mister Bascombe. If he is working for your father, then he doesn't need to know what we know or even suspect.”

“Just last night, the man said he wanted to speak with me, but I avoided him. I was too drunk to talk, truth be told.”

Ördelon couldn't contain himself, “Far be it for me to ever suggest there might be a problem there!”

I realized somewhat belatedly, that this was the Greer I had met on my first nights here. How confusing. “Perhaps there's something to what you say, Mister Ördelon. My apologies for being so blind to my own faults.”

“Think nothing of it, Mister Bascombe. Just realize that you are to us and yourself so much better when your head is clear. Many lives are at stake.”

“Apologies to both of you, Gentlemen. You'll both help me stay temperant while it's needed?”

The Count patted my shoulder reassuringly and said “Have no doubts, Mister Bascombe. You have friends in this room, in this kingdom. We'll not let you down.”

“Very well then,” I said, “I need to connive a way to cross paths with Margrin Ephisieryón without it seeming planned.”

Ördelon said, “He has tea in the conservatory every day from noon to two bells. Just listens to the music. Very intently I might add. He appears to be quite the music enthusiast.”

“Noted,” I said, “But I'm not, so I won't try to engage him that way. What's his tea?”

“Oh, that's easy,” said the Count, “it's the Green Dragon Dung tea from the East. It's outrageously expensive, but it's all he drinks.”

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“Right, growing up in a Hard Coast Company household, one thing I do know is my teas. The manure from a Green Dragon supposedly holds excess poison that they produce which has a pronounced stimulant effect. I've had it before and I didn't sleep for two days.”

“Elves don't sleep anyway, do they Mister Bascombe?” The Count had me there.

“No, My Lord. I forgot about that. Well, I need to stay sharp so none of that. I'll come up with something as impressive. He should be in the conservatory now. You'll excuse me, Gentlemen l, while I freshen up and take a tea with the Elf.”

I knew eyes were upon me everywhere I went, but I felt blissfully alone walking around corridors until I could hear the sonorous call of a cello in its lower register. That's what I was looking for. It wasn't yet one bell so he should be here.

I noticed Margrin Ephisieryón immediately as I stepped into the room but pretended not to see him. Trust me, dear reader, it was not an enviable task. He was seated perhaps ten feet from the cellist, his arms and hands flailing about with the music as if he was conducting an orchestra.

No one else was in the room save for a young valet and two thuggish looking Humans who were obviously with the one I was looking for. Perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to judge; maybe they were music lovers as well.

Margrin Ephisieryón caught my eye and beckoned me over just as the two monstrous creatures had risen and were headed my way. He waved them off to remain seated and they immediately obeyed. So much for questioning my judgment.

The Elf indicated that I was to take a chair opposite him at the table. “Mister Bascombe! Finally! Will you join me for some tea?”

“Hah! Not what you're having, Mister Ephisieryón! I like my sleep too much!” He chuckled along with me at that.

“Please, call me Margrin, my last name rolls hard off of Human tongues. Your first name is strange too, so I'll call you Bascombe and a smooth, easy to pronounce friendship we'll have!”

I'll give the bastard this, he was charismatic beyond any definition of the word with which I'm familiar. It was like some form of innate magic, something he was born with. I took my seat and he asked me what I would have.

“I believe I'll try their Purcha Berry; I prefer a good black tea. No cream or sugar, please.”

He looked as if he might have underestimated me and was just catching himself. “Aha! Kudos sir on an excellent selection. Comes from the family business, does it?”

“If I'm versed in anything it's my tea, Margrin. And exchange rates.”

“Yes, quite so, Bascombe! Do you remember meeting me all those years ago? How long has it been, twenty years?”

He cut right to the chase. Good. “I was very young, Sir. I have no context for the meeting. But, yes, I remember your face. We didn't have Elves about with any regularity.”

“You know, I'm the one who recommended your fencing master to your father. He was mine as well for a time.”

“Then I'm indebted, Margrin. His teachings came in very useful this morning on more than one occasion.”

“Yes, Bascombe, I heard. Very impressive indeed. It's been quite some time since Prince Anoresti lost a match and the man who beat him last died that night.”

I'm sure I gulped visibly.

“Ah, but you have round the clock guards, Sir. No worries.”

“I'm short four guards this morning already, Margrin, thanks to the Prince's Assassins.”

“Yes, well, I'm terribly sorry about that Bascombe. Despite my reputation, I do try to make sure innocents aren't harmed. I'm guessing you know my reputation at any rate?”

“Quite so, Sir. Quite so. I was nervous about meeting you. And you're so charismatic, it's hard to tell where I stand. You've a true talent.”

“Well, Sir, my reputation should mean nothing where you and I are concerned. Right now, as we speak, I am an Elf. There are those who think I would do anything for wealth and power. Generally they'd be right. When it comes to selling out my people, they're very wrong.”

He stared at me with cold, hard eyes. “This isn't the place for this conversation, Sir. We've much to discuss and I trust no one.”

“Very well,” I said, “Where should we go?”

“Oh, not quite yet, Good Sir. You haven't had your tea yet and I'm not through enjoying my music! We'll go back to your rooms at two bells if you be amenable.”

“An excellent suggestion, Margrin. I was looking forward to a good cup and the music is simply transcendent.”

He closed his eyes and went back to his conducting duties. I wondered how the cellist had gotten along without them. I looked over to her and got a quick eye roll. That was either very brave or very stupid. Either way I laughed. She must not know who this crazy man was.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ScKkDcJ.jpeg]