The sun had barely begun its ascent over the horizon when the train rolled into the sleepy town of Ashborne. A plume of dark smoke billowed from the engine, dissipating slowly into the crisp morning air. The town was still waking up; the cobblestone streets were empty, save for a few early risers making their way to work. The arrival of the 6:15 train was usually an uneventful affair, but today was different.
Among the handful of passengers disembarking was a tall figure clad in a long, dark coat, his silhouette cutting an imposing figure against the dawn's light. He carried an old leather suitcase, its once polished surface now marred with the scars of countless journeys. As he stepped onto the platform, his eyes—an unsettling shade of crimson—scanned the surroundings with a practiced, almost predatory, precision.
The stranger's name was Ethan Blackwood, a name that, in certain circles, commanded both respect and fear. Ethan was a man of many talents, though none of them were listed on any respectable resume. He was a fixer, a problem-solver for those with problems that couldn't be solved through conventional means. And now, he had business in Ashborne.
As Ethan walked towards the exit, a slender woman in her mid-thirties approached him. She had dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, and her green eyes were sharp with curiosity. This was Lila Rosewood, the town’s librarian and, unofficially, its chronicler of secrets. She extended a hand, her lips curving into a polite smile.
“Good morning. I’m Lila, the librarian here in Ashborne. You must be our new arrival,” she said, her voice carrying a note of cautious warmth.
Ethan took her hand, noting the firmness of her grip. “Ethan Blackwood. Just passing through,” he replied, his tone neutral, revealing nothing.
Lila’s smile widened slightly. “Welcome to Ashborne, Mr. Blackwood. If you need any assistance or information about the town, the library is just down the road.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ethan said, tipping his hat slightly before continuing towards the town center.
As he walked, Ethan took in the sights and sounds of Ashborne. It was a picturesque town, with its Victorian-style buildings and neatly kept gardens. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mingling with the earthy aroma of the surrounding forest. But beneath its charming facade, Ethan could sense something else—an undercurrent of tension, like a wire stretched too tight.
His destination was the Ashborne Inn, a quaint establishment run by Mrs. Eleanor Whitaker. The inn had been in her family for generations, and it showed in the lovingly maintained exterior and the cozy, welcoming interior. Mrs. Whitaker herself was a robust woman in her sixties, with silver hair neatly coiled into a bun and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose.
“Good morning,” she greeted Ethan as he stepped inside. “You must be Mr. Blackwood. I have your room ready for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Whitaker,” Ethan said, giving her a brief nod. He signed the register and accepted the key she handed him.
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“Breakfast is served from seven to nine in the dining room,” Mrs. Whitaker informed him. “And if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Ethan made his way up the creaky wooden stairs to his room. It was a modest space, furnished with a sturdy bed, a small writing desk, and a wardrobe. A single window offered a view of the town square below. He placed his suitcase on the bed and began unpacking, setting up a small, portable safe on the desk. Inside it, he stored a variety of tools—lockpicks, a small handgun, and several envelopes filled with documents.
Once he was settled, Ethan sat by the window, watching the townspeople go about their morning routines. There was the baker, Mr. Thompson, arranging his fresh loaves in the shop window. Across the square, Mrs. Hargrove was setting up her flower stall, her face a picture of concentration. Ether recognized them, they were people he had investigated. And at the edge of the square, near the fountain, a group of children played, their laughter echoing through the air.
Ethan’s gaze lingered on the children for a moment, a faint shadow crossing his features. Then, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. Flipping it open, he reviewed the information he had received.
The reason for his visit to Ashborne was a name: Julian Thornwood. Julian was a wealthy landowner and businessman, known for his philanthropy and his ruthless business practices. Recently, however, he had become the subject of rumors—whispers of corruption, blackmail, and worse. Several influential people had a vested interest in either proving or disproving these rumors, and that’s where Ethan came in.
His first step was to gather more information, and for that, he needed to speak with someone who knew the town’s secrets. Lila Rosewood’s name came to mind. As the librarian, she would have access to all manner of information, and her role as the town’s chronicler suggested she might know more than she let on.
Ethan made his way down to the library, a stately brick building with ivy crawling up its walls. Inside, the scent of old books and polished wood filled the air. Lila was at her desk, sorting through a stack of returned books. She looked up as he entered, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes.
“Mr. Blackwood,” she said, setting the books aside. “What can I do for you?”
Ethan approached her desk, his expression unreadable. “I was hoping you might be able to help me with some research. I’m looking for information on Julian Thornwood.”
Lila’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Julian Thornwood, you say? What exactly are you looking for?”
“Anything and everything,” Ethan replied. “Business dealings, personal history, any rumors or scandals—anything that might give me a clearer picture of the man.”
Lila studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I see. Julian is a significant figure around here, so there’s plenty of material. Follow me.”
She led him to a corner of the library where the town’s archives were kept. Pulling out several thick volumes, she placed them on a nearby table.
“These should get you started,” Lila said. “But I must warn you, Mr. Blackwood, Thornwood is not a man to be trifled with. He has a lot of influence in Ashborne.”
“I appreciate the warning,” Ethan said, taking a seat and opening the first volume. “I’ll be careful.”
As he began to sift through the records, Ethan felt the weight of Lila’s gaze on him. He looked up to find her watching him with an intensity that suggested she knew more than she was letting on.
“If you have any specific questions, don’t hesitate to ask,” Lila said, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp.
“Thank you, Ms. Rosewood,” Ethan replied, his lips curving into a slight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As the morning wore on, Ethan delved deeper into the archives, piecing together a portrait of Julian Thornwood. The more he learned, the more he realized just how dangerous his quarry was. But Ethan was no stranger to danger. In fact, he thrived on it. And as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, he knew that his visit to Ashborne was about to become far more complicated than he had initially anticipated.