Asher stepped out of Mr. Bolard's room, counted two doors, and twisted the knob.
Henry's office was much cozier than Mr. Bolard's, warmed by a crackling fire in the hearth. The window was draped, casting dancing shadows that flickered across the room.
In one corner stood a barrel filled with various bladed weapons, and shelves lined the walls, showcasing books and bottles filled with colorful liquids. Among them, Asher spotted several preserved organs in jars, though he couldn't identify the animals they had come from.
Near the fire sat an old man, sipping from a steaming mug. His grey and black hair framed a face that bore the marks of age, and he kept his beard closely trimmed.
He’s probably at least six feet tall, Asher thought, sizing him up.
“Hello, Henry. My name is Asher. I’ve just been hired; Detective Bolard asked me to seek you out.”
Henry turned towards Asher, scrutinizing him for a moment before setting his mug on a nearby coffee table.
He let out a chuckle, rising from his chair and making his way to his desk.
“Detective? Ah yes, the detective... So, you’re the new assistant, I see. Give me a moment.”
Henry rummaged through his desk, pulling out a key to unlock a drawer at the bottom. He withdrew a brass revolver with a walnut handle, its side embossed with the words "Bolard Consultancy." Setting it down on the desk, he then produced a box filled with bullets.
Next, he placed a badge on the desk—an iron shield with two swords crossed behind it, inscribed with the words "Tenebris Pugnamus."
“Go ahead and choose something from the barrel as well. After you’re done, see Liz. For the foreseeable future, you’ll come to my office for self-defense classes. Quarter past seven sharp. Now, off you go.”
Asher glanced at the gun and holster, then removed his windbreaker. He donned the underarm holster, popped open the barrel, and loaded five bullets.
After turning the barrel until the empty slot was in the firing position, he felt a bit safer and slid the revolver into the holster.
Putting his jacket back on, he stuffed the remaining bullets and the badge into his pockets. He then approached the barrel in the corner of the room.
What a mess, he thought, trying to make sense of the chaotic assortment. It was difficult to discern what lay within, and he feared he might injure himself if he wasn’t careful. Nevertheless, he managed to secure a silver stiletto, tucking it into the lining of his shoe before heading out.
As he walked towards the lobby, he spotted Liz, thankfully awake. Her blonde hair and green eyes brightened the dimly lit room, although she still seemed to struggle to stay alert.
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“Hello, Liz! I’ve been hired. Henry told me to come see you about my pay.”
Liz glanced at him, her face lighting up with an energetic smile.
“Congratulations! Pay? Oh, yes, of course! Follow me; let’s go see Helena.”
Helena, presumably the firm’s accountant, was a woman in her late twenties. She had curly brown hair tied up in a tight bun, hazel eyes, and wore a blue lady’s suit, complete with a pencil skirt. As she focused intently on a typewriter, Asher thought that if he didn’t know better, he might suspect it owed her money.
“Helena, this is Asher, the new assistant! He’s come to get his pay,” Liz announced.
Helena, seeming unfazed, unlocked a safe near her feet. She withdrew 24 pounds and handed it to Asher.
“This is an advance payment of six months. Use it to make yourself presentable and find a place closer to the office. You’ll need to be within 15 minutes of the office in case of emergencies. You will receive only a quarter of your wage until the advance pay is repaid. I hope we will see each other often.”
Helena seemed kind, albeit overworked, and quickly returned her attention to the typewriter.
Asher grew suspicious, wondering if he fully understood what he had signed up for. 24 pounds? he thought, astonished. I’ve never seen this kind of money; it’s truly a windfall! Four pounds a month? But the job posting said two pounds a month!
Well, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, he decided, finishing up and bidding both women goodbye. He found himself knocking on Mr. Bolard's door once more.
After hearing a small groan and a muffled acknowledgment, he entered.
“Detective, I’ve been given an advance pay of six months, along with a revolver, a dagger, and 50 bullets. But I don’t know how to shoot a gun. Is there somewhere I can practice?”
“Ah, Asher... yes, there is. Don’t worry; Henry can teach you. The advance pay is to ensure you can do your job. Make sure you’re presentable and find a place close to work as soon as possible. Right, take care of that before you show up here, please. When you're done, you start at 7 AM. Once you meet your coworkers, you can work out your day off with them. Good day, Asher.”
“Good day, Mr. Bolard.”
Thinking it was his cue to leave, Asher exited, smiling at Liz as he walked out the door.
They said to make myself look presentable?
Searching for his wallet, he kept it firmly in hand.
I’m rich—unbelievably rich! he mused. Bloody hell, I can rent a flat in the middle boroughs!
Walking down the street in high spirits, Asher swaggered into a local tailor called Anston Fine Cloths. The salesman was impeccably dressed in what appeared to be bright red cashmere—downright extravagant!
Asher felt a wave of annoyance wash over him.
“Hello, sir. How may I assist you today?”
Suppressing another irritated glance at the man’s attire, Asher replied, “I need two suits: one linen and one wool, along with a hat and shoes, please.”
“Certainly! That will be 6 pounds each. Please note that this also covers tailoring and upkeep. Should you need repairs, simply send them to our shop, and we will handle it free of charge.”
Asher felt the very floor beneath him sink as he processed the information. For a moment, he couldn’t think clearly; he nearly slapped himself—surely he had misheard the man. 12 pounds?!?
“Is there any way I can get a discount? Twelve pounds seems a little steep... perhaps ten pounds would be more fair?”
The salesman looked surprised but quickly regained his composure.
“Twelve pounds is our bottom line, sir. We wouldn’t profit otherwise. I assure you, this is a fair price. Our goods are top quality, and we provide the best service.”
Asher grumbled for a while, then began extracting bills from his wallet. The salesman couldn't figure out why Asher seemed to be seeing off a child before a long trip.
Some time later, Asher walked out of Anston Fine Cloths. As he headed home toward Hobble Street, he realized he’d have to walk through Kensington with his purchases.
Thinking quickly, he turned around and asked the salesman to have everything delivered.